The Betrayed Marionette
by edmelon
Summary: A runaway royal. A broken puppet. A missing violinist and a journey laid out in the very stars themselves. Amu has forsaken all to stay by Ikuto's side and now they and the crew of the Shining Black will travel to the ends of the earth in pursuit of the Captain that wronged them. But with the Dark Fortune and Royal Navy close behind, can they ever complete their mission? SST pt II
1. Chapter One

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

 _"Maybe it's better to be an outlaw with a purpose than a citizen without."_

- _Tim Powers, 'On Stranger Tides'._

~.~.~

It was here upon this midnight hour that time truly stilled.

It was here as the world began to fall away; as the shadow rolled in as a mighty fog from the east; as the sky became alight and wistful and speckled with the light of many stars that all seemed to slow. All seemed indefinite. All appeared to hang in the balance throughout that lull between the days, for the earth itself seemed to pause to hearken to the call of slumber and so, as it was, these hours were peaceful.

This night was a welcome breath - a brilliant respite. This night and all it's heavenly glow was blissful; it was cleansing… And, most of all, undisturbed. Undisturbed by the chattering of townsfolk. Undisturbed by the cry of the gulls on the seafront. Undisturbed even by the breath of the wind - by the whistle of the breeze on a growing tide; by the hiss of the waves; unbroken by the crashing of salt and water upon the foot of the cliffs...

Yes, this night was undisturbed by all of those things. Undisturbed... Save for the tapping. The chimes. Save for the rustle of dry parchment; the mutterings below hushed breath; the gentle _'chink,_ _chink, chink!'_ ing of metal upon metal as the tin figures danced, twirling upon a glassy stage as fleeting spirits, glowing in the light of the many constellations above. To the an intrinsic, chiming tune they spun; twirling as if bidden by invisible strings; enchanted to dance for all eternity. His tiny form was clad in bronze - an obedient little soldier boy with a saber at his side and a crown atop his head. Her dress was adorned in jewels - in tiny flecks of garnet burning red in the distant light - and all her skirts were spun from gold, woven from the sun itself, as pure and gleaming, glowing bright as a fresh-wrought brooch straight from the forge.

But then the ticking faltered. The rhythm skipped a beat. From the little bronze man there came a _'c_ _runch!'_ and suddenly he hung as if hewn in two - dropped cleanly at the waist.

Another crunch; an off-tune chime... And the melody ground to a jarring halt.

The figures stilled. Their dancing ceased. The light of the stars fell strong and bright over their façades and suddenly the fortune-teller saw the two laid bare. Tragic statues frozen in time they made, for still the bronze man hung in half, locked in his own lament. Now the starlight shone upon the maiden's dress, but no longer did it seem the gold her bronze soldier had so desired. Her garnets were missing. Her dress was tarnished - washed with rust - and bent over backwards she fell from him, arched away as if his very touch would marr her beyond repair.

The fortune-teller, glancing over, heaved a sigh and in his hands snapped shut the dusty book.

 _" 'If you prick us do we not bleed?' "_

He said.

 _" 'If you tickle us do we not laugh?_

 _If you poison us do we not die?_

 _And if you wrong us... Shall we not revenge..?' "_

"So said the greatest author of those days long passed. So said the man of times whence such drama and tales of passion were so tightly interwoven into daily life... At a time when our fates still lay so closely linked to these - these souls above our heads; our hearts hearkened ever to those stars above..."

And, in the dim light of the constellation room, he stood, his eyes agleam in the glow of the starlight.

"But I see this tale," the fortune-teller said; "I _see_ this fate so desperately wound across the fabric of the sky - engraved in the stars themselves as they drift about the endless night and fall away towards the end of the world…"

And he breathed, his hands in prayer before his face and in his chest he felt his heart begin to swell with an anticipation he could not place;

"Oh… And to the ends of the earth you shall go, Marionette. Where upon the blank edges of the map shall you wander, I wonder? Where lies the end of your fateful path? Where shall these constellations guide you on this fleeting journey into the night?"

Fondly, the fortune-teller raised his head towards the sky and the many stars of the heavenly night were reflected in his gentle eyes, dancing as spirits, intermingling with that never-ceasing spark of mischief - that spark of life that fed the flame in his restless soul.

And alight with amusement they were, for, far above, those two still hung in the heavens - sparkling; radiant; their centres overlapping, wound tightly to the other - and he now no longer cared for the abandoned book or the maiden with the sullied dress nor even the bronze man hewn in two, though reach for the maiden he did and when he plucked her from her music box and held her to the light of the Lock her missing facets gleamed as though filled with the very jewels she had lost.

"Because the pages have turned." He said. "The pages have turned and their voices filter from far above, for even now the heavens are moving; the tide is shifting; the plot of this new chapter forming amidst the clouds above..."

And, lightly - as a breath of sea breeze - the fortune-teller laughed.

"After all," he whispered; "you may have found your treasure… But it seems you've lost your way."

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : Well, here we are! Back again to continue on the Seven Seas Treasure storyline. Besides this first chapter (I do love my convoluted monologues!), I'll be getting straight back into things. Whilst the first fic was more of a slow burn, this one will be picking up the pace! I've got romance, adventure and (eventual) angst galore to come - not to mention one or two new characters as well!

Rating may change depending on how far some of the violence and, uh, 'romance' comes out. I've got a few parts written out already and I'm pretty sure some of it borders on M-rated fiction, but we'll see. I'd like to try and keep it T.

Well, I hope you'll follow the story with me, but in the meantime, any thoughts? Predictions? Criticisms? I'd love to hear them!

Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter Two

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

The downpour was relentless. Never had any of them known a storm to roll over the horizon so swiftly nor with such ferocity, for with every gale, every raindrop, it felt as though the very earth was being shaken to the core. It was as though the world itself was being enshrouded by the dull, grey, drizzly haze - a cage from which they could not escape. Overhead, the clouds over the city only grew thicker, more ominous. Beyond the palace walls, they could hear guards and townspeople yelling over the clamour.

The advisor paced back into the room, somehow too afraid to stand too near the window whilst the storm still raged on behind them. It was as if the weather knew, Kairi thought, as he turned his attention back to his audience whom were all still gathered around the table. At its head, the King's face was cold and grey. His cheeks were hollowed in the dim light, his hands cupped together beneath his chin. His expression was strange - it was somehow placid… Yet his eyes gave him away.

Frustration. Pain. Anger. Grief…

Beside him, his wife looked as though she was trying to keep the tears at bay. Weeks upon _weeks_ it had been since the... ' _Incident_ ', and still she looked as gigantic a wreck as ever. She had become prone to bursting out into sobs unexpectedly, sometimes uncontrollably, but for now she appeared to keep herself. Her maid, Yukairi, was at hand to comfort her whenever need be, but the royal couple barely looked at her. The two of them looked as though they had not slept for years. And quite rightly too, Kairi supposed, for never before had such a thing happened throughout the history of the royal line.

Eventually, Kairi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat. The atmosphere thickened. The pause before his anticipated speech was as suffocating and heavy as he had ever experienced. He thought for a moment, scrambling about his brain, contemplating how best to word what needed to be said.

Though deep down he knew… There was no easy way to say any of it.

"Your Majesty…"

All eyes that hadn't already done so snapped to meet his gaze. Every man and woman gathered there that day leaned forwards, their attention latched onto him like the ivy that crept up the palace walls. The King swallowed thickly, readying himself for whatever terrible news was to come, for any sympathetic tones from Mr Sanjou of all people would only ever spell disaster. Midori fiddled with the lace of her gown despite her formal façade - an old habit of hers that always resurfaced whenever her nerves were particularly on edge. She choked back a strangled sort of gasp. Hell, even the King's guards were creeping forwards to hear what was to be said - Nagihiko in particular held his breath and looked on with such apprehension that it was a wonder he could keep his composure for so long.

Kairi ignored their piercing stares. "Your Majesties," he began again in a tone that positively dripped with regret - that seemed to bring the weight of the world crashing down on that very room all at once. In an instant, whatever hopes had been left were crushed. The Queen leaned away, closing her eyes, as if to escape from whatever was about to break her heart, but it was futile, feeble, as the man went on;

"I am afraid to inform you that over the past five months we have not found a single trace of this ship known as ' _the Shining Black'_." the advisor said, first and foremost. "As you are well aware, considerable time and effort has been spent in continuing our search of Seiyo's waters and, in this period of time, enough of Your Majesty's fortune has been depleted in what can only be described as a… _Fruitless_ mission."

At this, Tsumugu's eyes narrowed. For the first time in a long, _long_ time, a fire flared, fierce and ferocious, in his eyes. But it was no use. Kairi no longer felt fear at the notion of his King's wrath… There were some things, he conceded, that _had_ to be said. And it was his job to say them whether the King liked it or not. He continued, unperturbed;

"It would be safe to assume, sir, that the pirates responsible have either abandoned ship or are a far more tactical, flighty crew than we could ever have imagined. However," he shook his head solemnly; "we have no evidence, my liege. We have no clue. We have no word. For all the might of Your Majesty's Royal Navy… We have nothing…"

In the background, Midori had buried her face into a handkerchief. It seemed that this was one of those times - one of those occasions when her anguish simply could not be contained anymore; when her heart was further rent beyond redemption and all hope vanishing as smoke into the sky. Any mention nowadays of her runaway daughter would cause such a commotion within her heart, but even now the King paid her no heed. Tsumugu lowered his gaze, his clasped fists tightening until his knuckles shone white in the dim light. The clouds were growing steadily thicker outside and through the grand windows the first flickers of lightning could be seen streaking across the horizon, sparkling between the albastar towers and turrets of the capital city.

But Kairi was not finished.

"Your Majesty," he began, somewhat tentatively. The King met his eyes once more. The advisor exhaled, his expression hardening. "As hard as it may be for you… I must say - in my own professional opinion, sir - that I am not sure there is much we can do for her now."

A silence met his statement. Outside, the first, rolling claps of thunder were starting to rumble in the distance. Kairi swallowed;

"I believe that the time may have come for you to consider naming your youngest daughter as your new heiress."

And, perfectly in time with the spark of outrage that lit up the King's face, a tremendous bolt of lightning and a roar of thunder rent the sky.

Tsumugu was quiet for a moment, apparently ticking the suggestion over in his brain. "Name… Name _Ami_ … Our heiress…" he whispered faintly, his breath raspy and face pale. And, eventually, he growled; " _Name Ami our heiress?"_

Kairi opened his mouth to defend himself, for he knew the first warning signs of the King's rage perhaps better than anyone else… Save, of course, for his wife who grasped his arm firmly and choked;

" _Dear-!"_

"Simply… _Give up hope?"_ Tsumugu gasped, brushing off his wife with a cold shrug and boring his eyes into the man across the room. "We _entrusted_ our kingdom to her… Our _lives' work - our family's legacy..!_ Everything… _Everything_ we entrusted to her - to _Amu_ … That is not something, sir, that can so easily be taken away, nor given to another!" And he shook his head, slumping back into his ornate chair, his ire slowly dampening. He seemed torn between wrath and despair - between hatred and grief - alternating back and forth and back and forth at opposite ends of the spectrum. "And likewise," the King whispered, his voice finally wavering, thick with heartache; "I cannot just let go of my _daughter…"_

All other guests were respectfully silent. Kairi hung his head low, bowed in reverence for his King, in recognition of his anguish. Truly their country had mourned with them in those last five months, but Tsumugu was still breathing out, unaware of himself;

"Amu… Amu is our… I can't just… I _can't… Not Amu..."_

Before His Royal Majesty could publicly break down in front of his audience, Kairi quickly interjected, trying to sound as sympathetic as he possibly could; "I understand. I understand, sir, how difficult - how _heart-wrenching_ \- this entire ordeal has been for you. My, there are still black flags flying in the streets of this dear city, for this betrayal is something the likes of which we have never seen before."

The King raised an eyebrow. "'Betrayal'?"

"But of course." Kairi responded. "It is unjust. And this is a situation which must be dealt with - if not now, then someday when we happen to chance upon those sails soaring black into the sky - when we finally spot that white diamond shining amongst the clouds once more-"

Tsumugu expression was hardening. He sat up in his chair and regarded his closest advisor with such a piercing look that every man present felt scalded. "Sanjou." He said. "What are you saying?"

The dark look of a vengeful King was not to be taken lightly, so all the old stories said, but Kairi was remarkably unfazed. And, though Tsumugu stood now, as bold and terrible as the oncoming storm outside, the advisor barely flinched under his gaze.

"I am sorry to have to say this, Your Majesty," he said coolly; "but the fact of the matter is that your daughter is now a traitor - a criminal. She is a pirate of her own choosing that, by law, shall deserve to be put to justice like any other. Amu Hinamori - by your guard's own accounts, no less - made that decision of her own free will that day at the docks… Should she ever return to us, she will pay the penalty for her crimes. In other words, should she return…" And his glasses glinted dangerously in the flash of the electric fury outside; "I am afraid there will be nothing you can do to protect her, sire."

At this point, Tsumugu's maelstrom of anger and torment was so great that he could not find the words to speak. He stood, his hands braced upon the table, looking about ready to unleash a relentless tirade upon the younger man, but yet words failed him. It was a nightmare beyond his wildest dreams. It was a fate so desperate and futile from which he could not escape. To his left, his wife was beside herself. Her small shoulders were beginning to shake again. At the sound of her cries, something menacing flashed across his face. When he spoke, his voice was so low and dangerous that, for a moment, Kairi's firm features actually faltered.

" _No."_

"Your Majesty-"

" _No, Sanjou!"_ the King boomed and every person present suddenly found themselves chilled to the core. The rain seemed to close in around the palace; a frost crept across the table; the wind appeared to scream like anguished souls snatched off the streets and doomed to the depths of the storm. "To begin with," he growled; "I understand you, _sir_. I understand _why_ you ask us to hand our kingdom and empire over to Ami. Therefore, Ami _shall_ temporarily be named as our heiress until such time that our true successor is found and, of course, the young lady will be treated as such, however I fail to believe that _my daughter_ would become such a notorious breed of criminal willingly!"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I must _insist-"_

But Kairi's pleas were to no avail and he was silenced by the tumultuous slam of the King's fist. " _There has to be reason!"_ he burst, hardly caring how many candles were toppled beneath the force of his fury. He breathed heavily, dizzily, shaking his head; "She must have gone with them for a reason… There _must_ have been a reason…"

And he repeated the words over and over and over again like a mantra until they were so well-engraved in his mind that no force on earth could shake them. The advisor tried to fight the urge to shake his head. Their company - other confidants and advisors and nobles alike - were torn in two. Truly the heiress' motives had been perplexing. Rumours had flown as flocks on the wind, travelling from town to town, growing more intrinsic and extraordinary with every rendition of this newest tale. The public were truly enthralled. They were captured - ensnared as if by invisible rope - and it was from such enchantment that retellings were being spun like thread, spreading rapidly across this desperate nation… But, despite all of Kairi's best efforts, they could not be silenced and so even the King himself remembered then;

"Perhaps Amu was _threatened_ ," Tsumugu went on, placing his hands together and wracking his brain for some sort of suggestion - for some plausible legend that had reached the palace walls from only God knew where. "I cannot help but feel it - that she would _not_ have done this! That perhaps she was _forced_ back aboard that ship by some power that we-"

But the words all of a sudden died on his lips, cut off by another;

"I have to disagree, Your Majesty."

Instantly, the chill to the room returned, only this time it was tenfold. This time it was no mere frost - no mere gasp of cold air. No… This time it was as thick and solid and oh-so _palpable_ as the ice of a dark, unforgiving winter. All heads turned, all voices hushed, fearful to raise their breath above a whisper. The King's eyes rose from his own clenched fists and travelled to the end of the table.

There, at the very furthest seat, half-enshrouded in shadow, sat the Commander. Beneath the darkness - beneath the gloom of the storm and the fall of his fringe - Tadase's eyes gleamed. Yet there was nothing in that ruby gaze - no anger; no anguish… No… He was unreadable. He was numb. He had given little indication until now that his mind had even been present this whole time. Kairi was thoroughly unnerved, if not concerned. This normally respectable man slumped in his seat (the permanent scar in his side was said to give him grief from time to time, they'd heard), leaning back casually despite the presence of royalty in the room. And then, finally, he exhaled harshly;

"I was there that day," Tadase spat, though it seemed to Kairi that his bark lacked bite; "I was there that day she chose their life instead of ours. I cannot believe her… I cannot believe that she would go against her own country; against her own empire; her own _parents..!"_ And he gripped his familiar staff until the gem atop it's hilt dug painfully into the skin of his palms. "I don't know what they did to her… But I cannot believe her."

There was a pause then, but nobody dared interrupt. Tadase looked up, his face falling into what little light remained, his expression scorned.

"Your daughter has deeply disappointed me, Your Majesty."

A light gasp left Midori's lips and effectively brought the King back to life. Suddenly looking positively enraged, he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could so much as _breathe,_ Tadase had risen from his seat. He gripped his staff firmly in his hand, twirling it in his grasp and glancing towards the doorway, making it clear enough that he intended to make his leave early.

"If it is your wish to continue searching for her, Your Majesty, then I cannot stop you." he said. "If it is your wish, I shall gladly leave our navy to their duty. I will not bring the ships back in. My word, I shall gladly accompany them if I must… But that is not because I wish to find her." And, finally, he directed his glance firmly at the King, their eyes locked in a silent battle. However, it looked as though Tadase was winning. His glare was burning and deathly. Tsumugu looked too stunned to move. "No, sir. If I rejoin the search party, then it is not for your daughter. But know this… I _will_ find the Shining Black. And I _will_ have Tsukiyomi and any other God-damned buccaneer on that ship _hang_ for taking her away from us and _poisoning_ her as they did."

And, with that, Tadase took the responding silence as a welcome cue to make his leave. He headed for the doors, turning on his heel and tapping his staff loudly on the tiled floor as he went. But, just when he had one foot at the doorway, he paused. Suddenly, he sounded wearier than any had ever heard him.

"As much as we may not like it, we have to accept that Amu is now one of them…" he said quietly. "And, as you understand, I have no intention of calling myself her fiancé any longer."

The Commander's words hung in the air like smoke from a candle long after he had left the room. In the uncertain pause that followed, the roar of the weather took over once more. Eventually, Kairi cleared his throat awkwardly, though no one made a move to speak again.

' _Oh…'_ the King thought desperately, staring out at the dismal scene that had overcome the city. ' _Whenever will this storm cease?'_ And Tsumugu sighed beneath his breath, his eyes still firmly fixed upon the sordid sky;

"Oh, Amu… Where in the world are you now..?"

~.~.~

It was said once, before it passed into proverb;

' _Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice.'_

Yes… So it was told - so it was echoed in the hearts of many a vengeful man, but it could not be said which held truer this night. It could not be said which struck truer in the souls of those who held that saying dear - who clung to it with every fibre of their being; who held it close to their chests; who had already wandered so far down the road to ruin that they cared not for the cries of their own conscience, that they kept their heads down heedless to the visions of peril that their cause foretold, oblivious to that line between passion and justice until all distinction faded as a ripple on the water - until it became but a blur, until light and dark both blended into one and all around the world grew distant and hazy under the influence of their own warring hearts.

And now that haze lingered as a chill, winter frost, clutching at the fabric of this forlorn nation in a death grip so unyielding that it grew harder with every passing day to draw the line - to firmly set a line in the sand between the two extremes; between justice and revenge and all that lurked in the grey space in-between, for at this point in time the two were but a befuddling blur that lingered over the walls of the palace. It gathered in the heads and hearts of once great men - of citizens and Commanders alike. It pooled in all those hard-to-reach, ungoverned places that thrived after nightfall - in the dells and the alleys and all those grotty little taverns that none would ever think to check… And it spread. It crept across this dampened earth until this nation grew sombre and dull in the dusk once more…

But more relevant - more pressing and suited to this darkest night - was a saying far more well-known…

' _There is no smoke without fire.'_

And so as smoke the ship materialised in the bay that night, eerie and haunting as the shadow of some phantom that stalked the seas - as those spectres of ships long sunk that sailors feared, for their presence had become an omen of terrible things to come. They ferried men drowned at sea to their doom, it was said. They summoned sea monsters from the darkest of depths to take down ships on a whim, it was also told. They were crewed by damned, departed souls doomed to sail the seven seas forevermore - the roar of the wind their cries; the chill of the fog their deathly breath.

But, whilst such things could not have existed, many people said - whilst such things were surely just the fears of fickle folk, too wrapped up in their own superstitions to see the sun breaking through the fog - this ship… This ship was truly a thing of myth, for it's likeness had not been seen by any who had not been befallen by some great misfortune. Not a man aboard had been spared that streak of misery in their lives that would have kept any regular human being laying awake at night, writhing and sweating and struggling out against the force of their own infernal demons.

Yes, this ship was a legend in itself. And it sat beyond the docks here tonight, in the bay of this darkened town in the north of Seiyo, and even under such heavy shadow it's form was darker than the fabric of night. Not a star twinkled overhead. Not a sliver of moon shone across the water. It was perfect and without such fire they would not have had reason to appear that night - to creep from obscurity enshrouded in smoke and shadow as they reentered the world of the living.

The Captain of the Shining Black surveyed his crew as the anchor was dropped, falling with a calamitous splash, but in such gloom he could not see the ripples on the water. He could barely see past their single lantern hanging beside the gangplank. Not a single light shone from the hamlet he knew lay in the darkness before them, crawling it's way up the steep hillsides, and all was veiled under cover of nightfall. He regarded the silence warily, his brows furrowed tight in focus.

"I reckon we make a neat li'l team going out like this!"

The chipper voice of his crewmate jolted Ikuto out of his daze. He bit back a humourless laugh, for Kukai could not have chosen a more inappropriate tone for such a gloomy, risky endeavour. He sighed lightly, shaking his blue head; "Remind me why I allowed you to follow us tonight, Kukai."

Beside him, the rusty-haired pirate just laughed gleefully, as if his Captain had said something remarkably hilarious, and lit up a second lantern. It's glow was weak and pitiful, but it made his eyes glow like a forest canopy under sunlight. "Aw, don't be like that, Cap'n!" Kukai said. "Can't just let you an' Utau go off by yourselves. 'Sides…" And his face took on an unusually serious expression so out of place on such a happy-go-lucky man as himself that Ikuto looked at him questioningly. "You oughtta watch your back, knowing who we're dealin' with…"

That much was true, he reasoned. Ikuto pursed his lips together, humming in acknowledgement and watched with little interest as his crew lowered a rowboat into the water, almost vanishing from sight if not for the glow of Kukai's light. The only thing visible at such a distance was the fleeting flash of purest white above their heads as the diamond sails were quickly reefed. It was a shame the same could not be done for the symbol on their transom, for any sight of a diamond upon black would surely send any onlooker into a frenzy, but it was the best they could do and, when all was done, Ikuto turned to face the men still on the deck, an unusual sort of apprehension swirling in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm not sure how long we expect to be on-shore," he said, mostly to himself. "If we're not back within the next two hours, then you are free to flee if you so wish."

There was a murmur of discontent at that, for none of these men would have wished to abandon yet _another_ Captain on some shadowy dock, but at that moment a figure appeared amongst them, shaking her head and draping the hood of her cloak over her pigtails.

"I shouldn't be so dramatic," Utau said, her chin held high. "This place looks like a ghost town. If there is trouble, I'm sure even these idiots will hear it from the bay."

Ikuto laughed lightly. His little sister had such a mouth on her that it was hard to believe, but he said nothing of it, merely gestured to the gangplank and stood by as Utau made her way down the ladder of rope and line. "Ladies first."

He heard her snort as she dropped down into the rowboat and bit back a smirk. He and Kukai exchanged amused glances. "Shouldn't antagonise her," Kukai muttered. "She nearly threw me overboard this mornin'…"

That sounded likely, Ikuto thought, chuckling to himself as he secured the cutlass and variety of pistols strapped beneath his dark cloak. There shouldn't have been any need for gunfire that night, but none of them could take any chances. He threw down a small vial of spare powder to Kukai as the cheerful pirate clambered down into the boat, relishing in the cool of the breeze after such a hot and humid day. And then, just as he was about to follow them himself… He sensed the hooded figure stood behind him. Heavily, Ikuto sighed.

"No," he said, fighting to keep a firm façade, but there was a bright sparkle of humour dancing in his deep blue eyes as he turned and leaned into the figure's shadowed face. "Not _you."_

And, quick as a flash, he whipped the hood off the figure's head and smirked in triumph as pastel pink glowed soft and striking beneath the lantern light. Amu frowned, narrowing her pretty golden eyes, and puffed out her cheeks in indignation. " _Ikuto!"_ she spluttered, flushing so adorably that the Captain found it hard to contain himself. "There's no need to be like that! Maybe if you'd stop being so _stubborn_ and hear me out _-!"_

"Did you really think you were going to get past me, Amu?" Ikuto sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "We'd be sitting in the same _boat_."

Amu's blush darkened considerably. "S-So?"

"Stealth was never your strong point now, was it?"

Ikuto chuckled, utterly unable to help himself as her small, balled fist swung feebly towards him. He caught it easily, though he knew deep down that this feisty little lady could have easily clobbered him if she wished. Amu was frowning again now, biting on the edge of those rosy lips in frustration so temptingly that for a moment Ikuto was half-tempted to take her by the chin and kiss them until they were even rosier - until all trace of worry was wiped from her mind and her blush darker than a newly-bloomed rosebud. She had no idea what that simple little action did to him. It was perhaps one of the most enticing things he'd ever known. Though, of course, most things she did entranced him. Every time she laughed aloud or took his hand or smiled so sweetly it was as if he was blind to all else. Every time he so much as caught a flash of pink, honey gold would inevitably consume his thoughts; every time she pursed her lips his mind would reel, rocking back as a vessel on turbulent seas as he recalled the soft touch of his lips on hers; every time he heard that rustle of skirts, saw the slight sway of her hips as she walked, he wanted to sweep her from her feet and wrap her tight in his arms beneath the haze of some starlit night, for it had been then, stood together on the deck of the Shining Black beneath the moon, that he had first known - that he had first _realised…_

On the main deck now, here in the present, Amu shifted slightly beneath his grasp and brought him firmly back to earth. He freed her fist from his, trailing his fingers across her hand as he went, delighting in the barely-suppressed shiver that ran down her spine. Ikuto shook his head, trying in vain to rid his head of all irrelevant, self-indulgent thoughts, and said firmly;

"You're not going."

Instantly Amu's expression soured. The petite former Princess folded her arms, looking critically towards him in that way that could make even a man such as he feel small and insignificant if she tried hard enough. It was the sort of look that reminded each and every one of them just what a woman of class she was - that this flighty thing stood here before them was truly cut from higher calibre. It was a look that Ikuto had seen on the façades of countless nobles many times before… And, though he couldn't say that that so-called 'royal façade' suited her entirely, there was no question that she used it well. Amu tutted.

"You couldn't stop me if you tried."

Ikuto raised an eyebrow. His eyes were alight and dancing. It was a silent challenge if ever he'd heard one - one that riled his senses and pounded his heart; heated his blood; one that turned on whatever animalistic instincts had been laying dormant in the depths of his soul for all these years - but the crew were gathering around them now and Kukai and Utau were waiting expectantly in the boat below and still that diamond shone as a beacon in the pressing darkness. Ikuto had no time to argue with the woman… But, if she was _willing_ to test the waters…

"No?" Ikuto began, his tone positively _dripping_ with amusement; "Your _Highness_ …" (And Amu bristled, for he knew what a chord that name now struck.) "I was under the impression that you would want to _please_ your Captain…"

Amu tutted again, but she could not fight the thrill that jolted throughout her chest as she found herself fixed beneath a dazzling stare - her glare faltering as his voice swept through her very being, rich and smooth, yet oh-so playful that it was hard to stand her ground as he paced, circling her as a cat might stalk its prey. Ikuto's gaze was raking teasingly up and down her form. His eyes were flashing in brilliant bursts of cobalt in the dark, as bright as a midnight star, as piercing as a passing comet. Ikuto smirked upon seeing any argument die upon her lips, enraptured as she was. She shivered and his satisfaction only increased, for he could tell just by the glaze of her eyes and the flush of her cheeks that it had not been caused by the cold. No, it was not unpleasant. On the contrary, Amu felt her own lips twitch of their own accord as that contagious mischief touched her heart. In fact, the former heiress was so preoccupied by averting her gaze in a vain attempt to keep it hidden that she barely noticed the pirate lean in, his breath cool and slight and _sensual_ against her cheek;

" _Speechless?"_

Oh… He just _knew_ what he did to her… She was sure of it! When Amu looked up again Ikuto was smirking roguishly - so unrestrained and alight with deviance…

And suddenly, even though the smirk was familiar - even though it was the very same smirk that she had seen a thousand times before; even though those eyes and lips and all those playful quips were so, _so_ familiar - he seemed to her and all the men around them a changed individual, for it was clearer now in moments such as these that whatever shadow had been lifted. Whatever darkness that had plagued this young man's very being had vanished and dissipated as a parting fog - swept out into the night upon Kazuomi's departure, falling like a weight from the spirits of every man aboard - so that he now appeared to all before him a man finally stepping out of the emptiness from whence he had dwelt these past ten years. No longer was Ikuto the shadow that Amu had met that very first day aboard the Shining Black - a scrawny, hunched, jaded figure slinking into the shadow, praying for obscurity and giving into the oncoming darkness and allowing his soul to be so consumed by the gloom as he went… No. Now he walked with pride. Now there was a fire burning fast and furious within his blood. Now he walked with poise and wore the blue hat from his father's past and now finally he could _breathe_ , for, though his chains may still have lingered - though one or two last, flimsy ties might always weigh him down in memory - they no longer bound his spirit. _Now_ he had power - a purpose; a crew; a new horizon somewhere beyond the blue of the sea…

Ikuto was a shadow who had against all odds finally begun to cross that line into the realm of the living and so Amu watched now as that man - so different, yet still somehow just the same - grinned devilishly down at her and, though she had grown to love such humour, she was reminded bitterly of all that had once bound him to the darkness in the first place. Unaware, Ikuto brushed past her, apparently satisfied with her silence and convinced he had won, making to head for the gangplank and join his small group out to the shore when Amu took his arm. He stopped immediately. Her grip was as firm and unyielding as a deadly vice as he tried to turn - as he tried to leave her behind to wait in the darkness just as his stepfather had done all those months ago… And perhaps Ikuto realised that then because he stopped and waited long enough for her to say;

"He has my Humpty Lock, Ikuto." Amu said. A silence met her utterance. She swallowed, her voice low, yet cold as ice and very quickly every man before her recalled that they were looking upon a Princess - a once-future heir of empires - as she said; "If you are going to find him, you cannot do it without me."

There was a pause, heavy and thick as the grey cloud above as Ikuto considered this. But Amu had nothing to fear, for her words had rang truer than she knew. There was a moment or so of awkward tension. The crew flickered their gaze back and forth between the two; Kukai was popping his head up over the gangway and watching curiously; beneath them the gentle waters of the ebbing tide lapped loudly against the solid hull as the seconds ticked by…

But, eventually, Ikuto sighed.

"Stay close to me."

Amu was almost too apprehensive to feel that flicker of warmth in her chest at those words. Gladly she dropped down into the boat and, the form of the Shining Black receding into the darkness behind them, they fled as mist into the night, guided by their single lantern, slipping towards the quays. Amu was in awe. This was one little portside settlement she had never seen before and it was in reality quite disheartening to see such a quaint little hamlet in such a state of sorry disrepair. Most of the quays were made of wood and rotted away lifelessly into the murky water. Along the seafront the shops were boarded and barred. Weeds and tangled, thorny bushes lined the road towards the cliffs to the point where their path was almost precarious. But still they flew soundlessly from their little boat; through the empty streets and deserted tracks and followed a little cobbled road up to the house on the headland. Unseen and unhindered they were, for this settlement had become in recent years as desolate and dwindling as any they'd ever seen. Rumour had it that the inhabitants had begun to flee - making off into the night for fear of phantom ships prowling their waters, but none had been spotted by the royal navy on their last trip to the north nor did these non-existent vessels seem solid and tangible as they swept across the sea. And so the people fled in fear and presented the Shining Black with their greatest opportunity in months - the chance to come ashore at last and pursue the call that had led them to this mansion standing stark and foreboding against the clouds. The group stopped once they were fully in sight of it, panting slightly after the steep incline. Ikuto felt Amu shiver beside him. He brushed against her side, his free hand trailing gently across hers, and he felt her still. He could have smirked. She was probably blushing.

"Well," Kukai whispered. He shrugged lightly, but the hush in his voice betrayed any air of confidence he'd hoped to present. "At least someone's home."

He was right. In a single window a light was glowing brighter and clearer the higher they climbed. The mist thinned up here and, as they stood atop the very peak of the headland, they glanced back and saw that all below them was submerged in a thin veil, as if the clouds had begun to descend from the sky and settle on the cold ground.

"Someone's home sure enough," Ikuto murmured. He withdrew from Amu's side, ignoring the lack of warmth, and strode up to the mansion. The magnificent gates were open. The gravel crunched cripplingly loud beneath their feet. To their right they heard a fountain trickling somewhere in the grounds, but they could not see it through the thick hedgerow that lined the drive. Ikuto almost hesitated as he found himself already at the doorstep, staring down the impressive arch above the entranceway, surveyed by the cruel eyes of gargoyles looming down from above.

"Whoever's home has awful taste." Utau said faintly behind him. Ikuto could have kissed his little sister for breaking the tension, but he just shook his head and bit back a chuckle. He knocked on the door. They heard its echoes even from outside - behind those doors must have lain an impressive hall to produce such a sound, he mused. They waited in silence. The air stilled. The mist was creeping in, the air growing thicker and thicker the longer they waited until the gates began to disappear from view, caging them in, suffocating their senses…

And then, faintly, they heard footsteps.

Each and every one of them stood alert and cautious, wide-eyed and apprehensive, as an almighty creak split the air and the doors, with great difficulty, inched open. Behind them stood a man - a young man dressed in a dark coat lined with ruffles; with inquisitive, cyan eyes as brilliant as a rippling stream and a stiff upper lip that could put any pirate firmly in his place.

There was a moment of awkward silence - of nail-biting tension as he surveyed the scene before him. When he finally spoke, his voice was so deceivingly placid that, for a moment, they truly began to doubt whether they should have ventured here at all.

"Good evening." The young man said. "I have been expecting you, Captain."

Ikuto felt all eyes lay upon him. He straightened, scrutinising their host with narrowed eyes. "Sir Ichinomiya?" was all he said; "Sir Sei Ichinomiya?"

There was a pause. For a moment, Ikuto wondered whether or not they had found the right mansion - or even the right town! - for that young man was staring at them curiously, his brows knitted together, his expression unreadable, yet his very being seemed to radiate with tension. It was in his eyes; it was in his frame; it was in the way he inched ever-closer to the darkness of his home as he judged the men upon his doorstep with all the caution of a rabbit at the mouth of its burrow.

But, just as the pirates were about to press further - as the wind blew across the driveway and the distant ticking of an ancient clock reached them from somewhere inside the home - the young man turned up his nose.

"You are looking for my father." The man said. Ikuto opened his mouth, looking about ready to demand the man in question appear before him right there and then when the man interjected. "Sei Ichinomiya is dead." He said bluntly. "My name is Hikaru Ichinomiya. Do come inside."

And, befuddled and perplexed, there was little any of the pirates could do other than watch dumbly as Hikaru Ichinomiya turned, sinking back into the shadows of his home and bade them follow. Ikuto glanced only fleetingly behind him, sharing stern looks with each member of his company. It was a pointed look and each of them understood it clearly. He would allow them to wait - to spare themselves and avoid following him into peril if they so wished… Yet not a single one of them rose to the offer. Resolutely, they all followed in line like ducklings and allowed the doors of the foreboding mansion to shut behind them. Kukai flinched as the heavy metal of the latch snapped shut. Amu covered her mouth and bit back a gasp and Ikuto slowed his pace only slightly so that he could stand beside her, lulling her into silence with his presence, letting her heat warm his nervous heart. They stood close together as they entered the grand hall.

Their host was but a darkened figure - a spectre of the shadows flitting and sweeping about his home as he led them towards a staircase so grand and steeply rising that it felt as though they were ascending through the sky itself and into some otherworldly realm above as they found themselves amidst the cavernous ceiling. This place was like a cathedral. It was like some old abbey or castle (they could not quite decide which, for both were equally marvellous in appearance) had been overtaken and allowed to blend into the background of this spectacular abode. Gothic and shadowy twisted pillars rose above their heads; tangled, thorny roses wrought from stone overshadowed every archway; gargoyles still peeked from the most peculiar of places and they were sure that, had there been light enough to shine upon this dismal night, they would have been greeted by the sight of paintings and mosaics breathtaking enough to reside in the palace itself. As they left the hall behind them and were taken through many, echoing hallways - up several flights of spiral staircases and towards the upper floors - Hikaru glanced back at them;

"I apologise for the lack of service, but my maids are running several errands." He said. "They are kept very busy. I cannot offer you more." And, as they came to a stop at the end of yet another corridor, he unearthed a bronze key from his coat pocket and unlocked the door before them. "Please, do make yourself at home in my study."

Beyond the door was indeed a study as he had said, they realised, for they saw looming bookcases and antiques locked behind glass in the darkened room ahead. Hikaru placed the small lamp he'd been carrying on the main desk (an ancient, antique piece which put the pirates in mind of Kazuomi's own ornate desk back on the deck of the Shining Black). Ikuto and his companions filed into the room, standing uneasily in the quiet, waiting for their host to turn to them. Until, that is-

"Nah, I wouldn't worry," Kukai piped up breezily, ignoring the pointed looks from his companions. "'Sides - nice an' warm in here! You won't believe how chilly the fog rolls in this time of night!"

Behind him, Amu was shaking her head weakly. Utau looked murderous. Ikuto shot Kukai a withering sort of frown, but, though he felt about ready to stride all the way over to their idiot crewmate and smack him upside the head, Hikaru just hummed in acknowledgement and regarded them with a curious look.

"That is true. Though I'm sure the likes of yourselves must become accustomed to sneaking about in the dead of night. " he murmured. "Really, Captain, I cannot say I blame you for calling at such a late hour, however I must say that I never expected a pirate to knock. A buccan's visit is normally accompanied by more than a flicker of gunfire."

"Call it but a hint of courtesy, young Lord." Ikuto replied. And then after a moment he smirked with amusement; "It's far less conspicuous, you understand."

"I understand." Hikaru said. "Though the darkness doesn't seem to suit you, Tsukiyomi. I trust that is my grandfather's doing?" Ikuto's mouth dropped agape against his will. He took a steadying breath, frowned over at the young man, but Hikaru was faster, cutting in quicker than he could speak; "It is his fault that your spirit has been confined to the shadows for so long, is it not?" Hikaru's gaze was piercing, so scrutinising and all-knowing that he really had no need to elaborate any further, for all of them then could see the resemblance. Each and every guest that night could see as plain as day the shadow of that thunderous brow; of those sharp cheekbones; that hard-lined jaw and firm-shut mouth… And, above all, that gaze was _unmistakeable_. "And yet here you are still. A _pirate_. Captain of the Shining Black in place of my grandfather… But for how long, Tsukiyomi?"

Their Captain seemed to consider this for a moment. A tension had settled upon the room so stifling and palpable that Amu felt short of breath, her lungs aching, her gaze darting cautiously to the window every now and then as if desperate for air - as though she might need to fly to the glass and claw for a gasp of pure, night air at any moment. But her attention was distracted, for, finally, Ikuto swallowed;

"I'm surprised that you don't attempt to shoot me on the spot."

At this Amu heard Utau step closer. Her eyes were wide with warning, her knuckles white as she so-subtly exchanged fierce looks with her brother. But, as it turned out, if Utau had thought that he was inviting for something, she was thoroughly mistaken.

"The Shining Black is not your sin." the young Ichinomiya replied and, with that, it seemed that the spell was broken - that the tension, so palpable and suffocating, snapped; that the air had suddenly lifted and the breeze blew strong again through the crack in the windowpane. "I am aware that Kazuomi Ichinomiya brought you into this pit of despair against your own will. I understand that you would not be here except for him and, on his behalf, for he surely would do no such thing…" And, to their surprise, he bowed his blond head in reverence towards the Captain. "I profoundly apologise." Quite simply, Ikuto (not to mention the other pirates) could do little else but stare in awe at their host. Hikaru did not mention it, nor did he seem at all bothered as he went on; "Though I believe I have heard of you also. To _you_ I must apologise further." Over in the corner, Utau blinked. She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him curiously. "Utau Tsukiyomi. Quartermaster of the Shining Black."

Utau frowned. "You may know my name," she began slowly; "But how could you possibly-?"

"Oh? Oh, yes. I must say, it was refreshing to learn of your new role aboard my grandfather's ship... That's a nice development." Hikaru said somewhat wistfully. "I've heard your previous Captain never cared much for any hierarchy below himself. Well, aside from his cohorts, that is."

In the background, Kukai snorted and earned himself another round of stern faces. "Oh, come _on,"_ he said. "That's the biggest understatement I ever heard!"

Utau opened her mouth then, some sort of scalding insult on the tip of her tongue, no doubt, when their host turned, closing the door loudly behind them and shutting out the draught. "My grandfather sickens me." he stated with all the calm and composure of one merely stating the weather. So chilling was his façade - so out of place and unnerving - that Ikuto decided swiftly to get the discussion moving.

"You are not Kazuomi's son then?" Ikuto said, but it wasn't really a question. More to clear the air the statement passed through his lips and instantly the young man sighed deeply, moving to light a second candle on a little table nearby.

"My father died years ago, you see, Captain." Hikaru began. "Of natural causes, you understand, and so here I live in this dreadful, deserted town, for I realise that if it were to sit idle here… Well… I'm sure I can think of _one_ who could find use for it."

These words fell cold and callous upon their ears. A couple of the pirates shivered, but Ikuto frowned, folding his arms across his chest. "He would not come back here." he said, though he didn't sound at all convinced. "Your grandfather could not stay on land…"

A dry laugh left Hikaru's lips. "No," he whispered. "But it would be incredibly convenient. How else would I ever greet him again? How else might I finally repay my grandfather for all he has done in this world? An easy end to a despicable man it would be, no? That, after all, is why you are here. Isn't it, Captain?"

Amu's gaze darted towards Ikuto perhaps too quickly, for he caught the flash of her nervous eyes in the lantern light as wide and bright as golden saucers. But, to her surprise, Ikuto did not say anything. Not at first, at least. No… Ikuto folded his arms, hummed lightly in acknowledgement - casually, as if they were discussing something utterly trivial… Then he smirked.

"And I take it you'd care to help us?"

Hikaru's reply was immediate. "But of course, Captain."

"You're… Well informed, no?" Ikuto mused. "I'm sure you could be of some use to us. You did say you were _expecting_ us, after all."

"I think you'll find what I have to offer here tonight quite agreeable." their host replied. "If you'd care to listen carefully, that is."

By this point in the conversation, the two of them were sharing wickedly conspiratorial expressions. Ikuto's eyes were burning - alight with the fiery fuel that had driven him on this newest venture of theirs. Even Amu was leaning forward; even Kukai was beginning to grin from ear-to-ear, his teeth bared as fangs, their minds all running as one as they pictured that demon in their minds - as they played out within their heads the just and swift retribution that they would cast upon that man who had forsaken all their lives as though they had been nothing but dust beneath his boots. Yes, spirits were riled in the study that night and Hikaru's words were teasing - _tempting!_ \- playing like music upon their ears, carrying off their imaginations into the blue beyond…

But then, finally, Utau spoke up, her voice cutting harshly through the quiet; "Are you not concerned?" she began. Her voice was grounding. Her voice was harsh. It seemed to take them one by one and drag them all back to the firm, solid feel of earth beneath their feet as she snapped; "Are you not concerned that you are helping the very people who wish to harm your grandfather?"

Perhaps quite foolishly, none of her companions had been thinking this. None of them had thought to question this now glaringly obvious catch in their request. The pirates slunk back, their eager curiosity quelled as a flame to water, snuffed out and replaced by an uneasy sort of apprehension, for, honestly, what grandson would comply with such a request? What sense did it make for this young man to so willingly lead these buccan men to his relative's door?

But then the atmosphere changed. _Then_ the clouds seemed to roll overhead thicker, gloomier, for the shadows deepened. The candle flickered. Hikaru's featured grew as grey and stony as the weathered old cliffs on which this mansion sat and something so cold and ruthless and _devilish_ \- flashed across his blue eyes so suddenly that, if there had ever been any at all, not one of them now doubted that this young man was related to that most notorious of pirates. Truly, they all thought now, this was the very man who would sell out his own grandfather… And he would be glad for it.

"That is no concern of mine." he said darkly. His breath blew out the candle he had lit only moments ago and now the room was awash with darkness - shadowed and gloomy as the light from the other lamp weakened; chilled as the silver glow from the waning moon drifted through the window, creeping across the floorboards like the mist that still crept upon the cliffside beyond. Hikaru's shadow fell black and empty across it as he paced towards them. "My grandfather is a _traitor."_ he whispered. "He betrayed his King and country and, above all else, he dragged such innocents into his vile deeds as to be damned to hell for all eternity." Around him, all others were silent, for, even if they _knew_ what to say, they could not speak - could barely breathe - as he inched towards them. "Over the years I have gathered enough information about his deeds to be suitably disgusted. My father would be sick to hear of his deeds. All my father ever received from him was this house - this one mansion out of many! Even his own family he swindled. Even his own _son_ he was too greedy to give a penny. Father's inheritance would have been far greater had that pirate's life savings not 'mysteriously' disappeared before his departure…"

"Life savings?" Kukai - who had up until that point been wracking his brain to try and figure out the disadvantage of inheriting a _mansion_ , of all things - blinked in confusion. "His wealth wasn't pirated?"

There was a pause - a moment of perplexed silence during which Hikaru's deadly demeanour had faded… And then, suddenly looking like any average, young man again, he raised a curious eyebrow.

"'Pirated'?" He repeated. His brows furrowed almost innocently. "My grandfather did not pirate for gold - none save that which would lead him to the Great Treasure, anyway…" - (he paused only to glance at the brilliant flash of gold caught around Amu's neck, the chain of the Dumpty Key just peeking out from the clasp of her cloak.) - "No, his wealth was well worked for in his day, I can assure you."

Ikuto hummed lightly in thought, his entire being beginning to glow in shades of white and cobalt as he stepped into the light of the moon, pacing absently about the study. "I had heard that he was a… ' _Bounty hunter'_ of sorts." he mused. "He used to hang pirates by the dozen, if I'm right?" And he looked to the young lord for confirmation… But he received none. No, in fact, the silence was so absolute that it was quite unnerving.

Hikaru's eyes were as wide as plates, his jaw hanging slack in what was possibly the most comical depiction of disbelief that any of them had ever seen. When he spoke, his words were slow, his mouth barely catching up to his brain;

"You… You people have no idea…"

Something about that statement seemed to make Amu's insides curl with dread. She and Kukai exchanged a clueless glance. Ikuto raised an eyebrow and motioned for Hikaru to continue, but he did not. Finally, looking thoroughly offended, Utau placed her hands firmly on her hips and held her head up high. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bemused, Hikaru opened his mouth. Then closed it again. In the background, sat behind them on one of the antique shelves, a clock was ticking noisily. One second. Then two. Three, four… Up to thirty seconds passed by before it seemed he found the will to speak again. And, when he did, his words… Well, they held more weight than any other spoken that night.

"My grandfather…" Hikaru said slowly; "My grandfather was one of the King's advisors."

Amu felt struck to the core. Behind them the ancient clock ticked on obnoxiously, but the Princess could pay it no attention, for her mind was reeling, her body numb, her breath dying shallow in her throat until her chest began to burn and cry beneath the weight of such a sudden notion. Around her, the pirates were stunned to silence. Though pale, Ikuto shot her a cautious look and inched towards her, but, although his presence was enough to calm her - though his very being had her grounded enough to remember how to breathe - it was not enough. For the first time it was not enough to calm the whirlwind in her heart, nor the torrent of her thoughts, nor the ringing of her ears as her mind replayed those simple words over and over and over again.

And, whilst none of them had yet regained the sense to speak, Hikaru continued;

"Kazuomi faked his own death to flee without suspicion and took all his wealth before it could be lost… Or," he drily noted; "before it could be passed on to my father."

Quite simply, Amu's skin was crawling. She felt sick. Her stomach was curling and twisting as though possessed by some slimy creature of the deep, for the very thought - the very _implication!_ \- that such a man had been so close to her all this time; so interwoven into her very life before she had even so much as _heard_ of his name or his ship or even acknowledged that very existence of a pirate's way of life… It made her thoroughly unsettled. Far more unsettled than she'd ever been…

"He betrayed my father…" Amu managed and, despite the faintness of her heart, there was enough venom - enough spite - in her voice to make up for her shock tenfold. "He betrayed him and became a pirate…"

"How… How did we not _know_ this..?" Kukai exclaimed, sounding very faint and awestruck in her ears. "Ikuto! Utau! Did the two of ya never _know_ this?"

Judging by their silences, Amu presumed they didn't. As it was she could hear Ikuto's breath beside her. It sounded shallow and struggled, much like her own.

"My grandfather was always a very secretive man." Hikaru replied as though it answered all of their questions. "Even my grandmother knew little of his work outside these walls. He did not live here often, you understand. I am not surprised that you and the rest of the crew were not aware of this." And he shrugged. "That being said, even I was aware of some wrongdoing at the time. I was quite young, barely five years of age, but I remember as clear as day laying awake at night to the sound of scuffling from my grandfather's study. I saw my grandfather a week or so after his supposed death rifling through his study, stealing as many scrolls as he could lay his dirty hands on and vanishing off into the night." Hikaru sighed, shaking his head as if in exasperation. "What a fool that man was. He barely noticed the paper's he'd left beneath the desk. His greedy hands could only carry so much, it seemed, but it was quite fortunate in the end. There on those papers were written the first few details of his grand plan. He had scrawled tales of treasure on them like a madman… Tales of treasure and wealth beyond desire and, throughout it all, just one word… ' _Fortune'... 'Fortune, Fortune, Fortune'..._ "

The pirates all shivered as one. In their minds there resurfaced the image of a ghostly galleon - a haunting, majestic vessel that sailed beside the greatest leviathans of the very deep itself - but whether Hikaru knew of the significance or not he did not tell. Rather, he just continued, rubbing his chin thoughtfully - a rather odd action, one that seemed in complete contrast to his years - and shook his head.

"It wasn't hard to work it out." he said. "Not when all his worldly thought seemed bent on this fabled wealth of riches. Nor even did it startle me to hear of the most daring maritime robbery of the century - of the plucky theft of His Majesty's favoured warship which I believe even now still sails about these waters…" And then he laughed - mirthless and sour, as though the very words would taint his tongue. "I believe she anchors here tonight, does she not?"

And, visibly, Ikuto stiffened. Behind him, Amu slunk back into the shadows almost guiltily, though she knew she held no fault, and in the mind of each and every soul in that room that night there shone the glow of white upon darkest sails - of sail and cloth and impeccable diamonds fluttering above the breeze; stamped onto her stern; immortalising the Shining Black as the most nefarious frigate to ever cruise these peaceful waters.

"I'm sure she was magnificent back in her day," Utau mumbled from the back of the room. Her eyes were glazed - steeped deep in wistful thought. "I'm sure she was spectacular before Kazuomi tore out her heart… Before he gutted her stern..." And, at the young lord's questioning look, she added; "The Shining Black's stern was modified." she said. "Her Captain's cabin Kazuomi split into further compartments - four cabins and a short passageway he added… Well… He added them when he wanted to ' _keep an eye on us'_..."

Amu frowned, utterly lost for all of a few seconds before it suddenly hit her. Immediately she felt her blood begin to boil. When she chanced a glance at Ikuto his face was unreadable, but the tension in his jawline gave him away. He and Utau and their dear, desolate mother had been caged like prisoners before the Captain's door… All so he could strengthen his grip on them. Suddenly very disgusted, Amu did not know whether she'd be able to face sleeping in those tiny cabin spaces any more.

"Yes," Hikaru sighed. "Indeed."

And, before anything more could be said, he effectively ended the conversation. The young Lord turned on his heel, marching towards the bookcase behind him. A fine old case it was - made with the most elaborate polished and carved mahogany the pirates had ever seen. It's front was encased in glass, it's contents obscured by many delicate patterns cut so intricately across the panes that it was a work of art in itself. The Lord unearthed a key from the lining of his vest and when he turned the key in it's padlocked place the entire thing clicked so audibly that its echoes could be heard in the surrounding corridors outside.

"This," Hikaru said, hauling with great difficulty a leather tome into his hands - the biggest tome that any of them had ever seen; leather-packed and singed at the edges and every inch covered in dust; " _This_ is what I believe might be of use to you."

When he placed it onto the the ancient desk the entire thing shook right through to the floorboards. An almighty plume of dust burst up into the buccan's faces, tickling their noses, dirtying their faces. One by one they all inched round, gathered in the feeble light of the lantern and awaited with baited breath as their host batted away the lingering dirt from their vision. Ikuto looked up into the young man's eyes. He didn't even need to ask. Hikaru's lips tugged oh-so slightly, but his voice was steady - as grave and deadly as a man well beyond his years - as he said;

"This," Hikaru began; "is possibly the key to tracking down my grandfather."

Unaware of herself, Amu's jaw dropped. Ikuto's eyes narrowed - shining with barely suppressed amazement, but he said nothing. He took a deep breath - slow and steady as though bracing himself for some immense tide he could not foresee. Hikaru laughed, but it was mirthless and chilling and it sent shivers down the spine of every buccan present.

"That is why you are here - here of all places, sneaking through in the dead of night like rats condemned to the confines of the gutter… Is it not?" No one answered. Hikaru went on. "I must say… It's really quite beautiful, isn't it?"

He ran his hand across the fine leather tome and a pale streak of dust clung to the fabric of his sleeve, sweeping away the filth, laying bare carefully gold-picked lettering for all to see, though Amu could not decipher it, for it was an old, archaic form of their language that she had never yet studied. Her knowledge of this country's tongue went back only so far - as far as her father saw fit to have her taught - but Ikuto's brows furrowed in confusion. He craned his head, mouthing breathless words to himself.

" _Hic sunt dracones…"_

A breath of wind. An astonished murmur. Outside the gentle ' _pitter-patter, pitter-patter'_ of water droplets tapped like hesitant fingers against the glass as the first of the clouds began to give up the fight and released the first torrent of rainfall upon the world. Back inside, gathered around the desk, lulled by the warmth of the candlelight, Ikuto frowned up at the young Lord and shook his head.

"' _Here be dragons'_?"

And, immediately, something seemed to click in Amu's mind. It leapt all of a sudden from some dusty, disused part of her brain. It rang with nostalgia. It shone in various tones of bronze and gold and glittered in the lantern light, for that inscription sprung to light in far more memories than she had thought possible. Every map; every globe; every blurred line and hazy edge was wrought from that very phrase - that phrase that lined the boundaries of human knowledge; of worldly exploration; of every path untraveled and every stone unturned, for it's inscription foreshadowed all manner of unseen things to come… And it had sparked her imagination ever since she could remember - ever since she had first looked at those age-old maps in her mother's study, her young eyes wide and glittering, yearning for far-off places beyond all fathomable thought.

"Dragons," Hikaru began slowly, gradually drawing Amu's mind back to the present - to the darkness of the study and the thickness of dust and the hush that came before the storm; "were traditionally benevolent. But this dragon…" He said, running his fingers along the spine, creasing his young brow and reaching for the corner of the leather tome. "This dragon that you pirates seek - this… This _monster_ … He shall not be so merciful once you find him."

A sudden silence fell at this. Amu stepped back from the table before she could stop herself. It felt as though something heavy had dropped in the pit of her stomach - as though the full weight of those words had only now hit home, yet it was not true. Countless nights she had spent in fear. Countless moons she had lain awake and apprehensive, for every dark cloud upon the horizon shifted - every squall became a portent of that beast's appearance. Every chill wind was his breath; every rough wave the outstretch of his distant ire; every night was yet another night in which he could sneak upon them under cover of darkness just as he had left that fateful night on the outskirts of Seiyo…

Opposite the desk, Kukai stepped into the firelight, his warm eyes glowing in the flicker of fire, yet they were shadowed. They were overcast - they mirrored Amu's own anxiety… And, somehow, that was comforting even as he spoke with that uneasy waver in his voice;

"So," he trod hesitantly; "how d'you reckon this'll help us find him?" he asked. "What's this? A rulebook? Did he plot out his journey before he up an' left ya? Kazuomi was never one ta stick to a plan, ya see."

"No," Hikaru agreed. "No, he did not. But, as you shall see, these are the very documents my grandfather left behind the night he deserted us… I kept them. I _hid_ them - just in case. Just in case he ever thought to return… But he did not. And all the more lucky for you, Captain." And then the young Lord paused. He untied the thin leather strap bound to the book's side, flipped it onto it's spine and then the thing fell open, landing heavily enough to make the lantern leap, and they saw with great astonishment that the inside was hollow - at least two hundred pages carved clean from the bind! - and there, in the very middle, lay several scrolls all sealed in wax, tied securely together, brown and brittle and so fragile-looking that the men were afraid to so much as _breathe_ on them in case the things should decide to disintegrate and fade away into nothingness before their very eyes. Hikaru paid their looks of awe no heed. Cooly, calmly, he went on;

"My grandfather had prepared, as it turns out, several safehouses - hideouts, if you will - in which to pass the days should anything work out… _Unfavourably_ for him. Or, perhaps, as a location to conceal whatever riches he stole on the road to this unlawful life he now leads. Those life savings I spoke of, for example."

"Could he not have blown it on the ship?" Kukai asked then. "I mean, remodelling a full-blown ship ain't _cheap."_

But Hikaru just shrugged. "We don't know." he said. "But I presume the King paid my grandfather fairly well, to put it simply."

Ikuto shook his head, his very body deflating with a terrific sigh. "I knew he hunted pirates once… But this is…"

"Dastardly, isn't it?" Hikaru tutted. He carefully scooped out the scrolls - five or six of them, there were - and laid them gently onto the desk. He with much difficulty closed the heavy tome and slid it away from them. "I dread to think what he might be doing at this very moment, but if you want my guess, Captain, I'd like to think…"

"You'd think that, if Kazuomi went _anywhere…_ " Ikuto cut in. "He'd go _here_." And he picked up one of the scrolls, picked at the age-old wax about it's middle and unfurled the thing onto the table. A faded map of the world lay before them - musty and flimsy and lavishly riddled with illustrations of the very dragons that ate away at the unknown ends of the world… But with _one_ difference.

Utau's eyes grew wide as saucers. She half-shoved Kukai out of the way to lean in closer, her fingertip tracing the outline of the various swirls and points that inscribed the map, for no real lettering was to be seen. Drawings and intricate, detailed patterns there were at every edge, but letters? No. No letters - just writings of Kazuomi's own invention made up of symbols that none had ever seen before.

"I assume you can read this?" she said urgently, her lilac eyes flashing fiercely as she looked up at their host. "This writing here!" - and she pointed to whatever markings stood for ' _Seiyo'_ as an example - "You must know how to translate it!"

Hikaru opened his mouth to answer, but Ikuto was faster. The Captain scoffed. His expression was fiendish. A smirk was playing about his lips - his teeth bared and eyes burning and suddenly Amu thought she understood, for suddenly she felt a wash of excitement course throughout her veins, for _this_ was it! _This_ was their chance! She found herself grinning mischievously back at him as he scrutinised the puzzling map;

"Oh, we don't need to," Ikuto said. "We just need to find out where these safehouses lie. We've no time to translate a map of the world - we just need to know how these places were marked. What can you tell us about them?"

"Well, it's like you said, Captain." Hikaru replied. "If he would go anywhere - a man of that greed - it would be to one of these. He describes them as 'store-houses'. In simpler terms - they are all isles and uninhabited lands described as treasure troves by mythical pirates of old. Not that there is any truth in such legends, of course, but my grandfather seemed to view them as the perfect shelters for both himself and any ill-gotten gains of his. They are marked with a specific series of symbols. I deciphered many of my grandfather's codes, though they appear to have evolved over the years." And he placed his finger atop one such pattern of markings on a cluster of islands to the south. "It is not a 'language', per se. He merely replaces a letter of the King's phonetic alphabet with a different symbol of his own invention. This here, for example - the symbol resembling the sun - that's a 'T'."

"We'll need a copy of your translations." Utau cut in. " _Immediately._ "

"But of course," the young lord said. "You shall be taking all of these documents with you tonight." And, at his guest's questioning stares, he added, his lips curling in a sudden disdain; "I do not wish for them to remain in this house."

And, suddenly, it seemed as though that was that. The small group shared equally eager and cautious looks as the young man turned away from them, fetching one or two minor pieces of parchment from a nearby bureau and began to arrange the various materials as he saw fit and all the while Amu found her gaze ever-drawn to that astounding map - to the patterns and the tiny waves and the many dragons that sailed across every path; across every current; that cruised beneath every unknown wave and every new horizon. And, suddenly, her heart was filled with hope. With apprehension. With a rush of adrenaline so intoxicating that she for a moment forgot all else - forgot the danger and the peril and the fact that she stood here now, a once-noble woman enshrouded in the dark, scrubbed by sea-salt and swept from her feet by the lure of the waves beyond.

But then, just as all finally seemed to fall into place - just when five long _months_ waiting seemed to finally be drawn to a close - Ikuto dropped a deadly deal-breaker. He had been stood to the side, curiously watching Hikaru's every move, his eyes scrutinising his tiny form as a hawk eyes up its kill, when the words slipped from his lips - tense and cautious, uttered out into the silence;

"How do we know you aren't relaying information to him?"

Those words fell heavy and sudden as the gathering rain beyond those walls. There was a pause. Amu felt her heartbeat falter. Utau frowned. Across the desk, Hikaru didn't so much as blink, but Ikuto went on, firmer now;

"How do we know that you despise you grandfather as much as you say you do?" He demanded. "How do we know you are serious?"

Hikaru's eyes widened by the tiniest fraction. Suddenly that previous, nail-biting tension had returned and, for the first time, Amu truly _feared_ the possibility of such a thing, for, should Ikuto's misgivings hold true, she realised now that it would be the most disastrous blow to all their endeavours! Her golden eyes darted to the young Lord. And then to Ikuto. And back and forth they went endlessly in the gloom….

Until, of a sudden, Hikaru smirked.

"Oh…" Hikaru said. Amu shivered. "Believe me, if I had _any_ inkling to my grandfather's whereabouts…"

And, drily, Hikaru laughed;

"He'd be dead long before you got your hands on him, Tsukiyomi."

Truly, Amu thought then as that uneasy silence settled across the study, _this_ was Kazuomi Ichinomiya's grandson.

And with that, Hikaru snapped up the remaining scrolls as quick as a flash, tore the map from their grasp and thrust them all into the Captain's hands. Ikuto stumbled, at least two pieces of parchment threatening to flutter from his grip, but he held them fast and before any of them could question their host further they found themselves frog-marched from the study, distributing their gains between them and finally facing the steadily-growing downpour that drenched still the dismal earth around them. The fog was growing only thicker. The darkness was deepening. Even as the hours ticked by and the night drew to its fateful close the grey gloom crept in until all the world about them was veiled and chilled as a winter's frost. And, lifting up their sodden cloaks and shielding themselves uselessly against the icy rain, the little band of pirates stood as shadows beneath the front porch, ready to flee with the fading light and return to the shadows from whence they came.

And yet, as they made to leave - as Ikuto glanced up through his dampened fringe and cast their host one last critical look - they heard the young lord's voice echo but one last time;

"Good luck to you, Captain."

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : Wow, I'm back! Sorry about the wait! I was so swamped with assignments that I'd have had to pull all-nighters to get any decent work done on chapters. In fact I pretty much did just to perfect this draft, so please blame anything that doesn't read well on that! Plus I've had to majorly rework the beginning of this fic last minute which has thrown me off a little (a _lot!_ ), but I'm determined to get a lot more done! I'll try and update regularly again like the last fic, but I may be a little slower over the next month or so.

This was quite a long one to get us started. There was an awful lot there, but this plotline doesn't necessarily need a slow burn start like the last one, so I hope it wasn't too much in one go. Plus I think I need some practice when it comes to writing about Ikuto as the Captain. It's so much harder to try and get him in-character when he has authority?

Well, I hope you enjoyed! This should have given you a little flavour of the direction this story is headed (I hope..! It's _very_ late and I'm starting to ramble), so let me know what you think!

Until the next chapter~!


	3. Chapter Three

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

When the Commander returned from the grand capital - when that sleek, silver carriage rolled up towards the Hotori home, tearing along the narrow road through the town and grinding to a halt on the gravel before the face of his family mansion - it was as though a great, irrepressible sense of unease had overcome this seaside town. Yes, when the Commander returned to town that day, it was as though just about everybody knew about it, for for his presence came as a chill frost upon the mansion and all who dwelt there. Servants stopped in their tracks. His escorts marched forth with their heads bowed and lips pursed - walking as clockwork men each falling into line before their master. In the dim light of the hall, Tadase's parents stood, their hands clasped as if in prayer, their eyes wide and worried, but they could say naught, for he brushed them off as easily as the dust on his jacket. They were but flies in his peripheral. They were nameless - faceless and dull as the shadows about them - and he was yet too blind to all except the maelstrom in his own thoughts to pay them any heed.

And so as a squall he returned to his coastal home - as a gale, fierce and furious - tearing through the halls of his stately home, flying through corridors, the icy grip at his soul radiating from his very being and permeating every room; every inch; every corner of that desolate, unhappy home. With a force that surprised even himself he threw back the doors to his study and the clamour was so great and ungodly that it could be heard on the other side of the building, yet it fell deaf and dull upon his ears. Tadase could not hear the world around him anymore. He could not hear the concerned voice of the King; could not taste the fiery tang of liquor upon his tongue; he could not feel the warmth of the day upon his skin even now as he stood in the light beneath the grand windows - even now as those rays of light pooled and danced and flickered gently down upon his cheeks.

But, though the skies were clear and the sun was bright against the endless blue, within Tadase's heart the storm still raged; the rain still poured; the clouds so heavy and grey - so unyielding and bitter. It was almost as if the downpour had followed him home. It was as if those clouds had never cleared and so it was with that torrential downpour weighing heavy in his head, enshrouding him in a chaotic haze, that he restlessly paced the floor of his study until the rug wore bare beneath his feet. Back and forth and back and forth he went endlessly as a ship sent afloat on stranger tides, yet, though the sea was boundless and the confines of this world still yet unclear, the Commander had never felt more subdued. More grounded. More _trapped._ Claustrophobic this room now seemed - the bookcases looming and imposing; the air stuffy; the dust thick and the smell of parchment so stifling that he desperately tugged at the stiff starch of his collar, gasping for breath, muttering;

"I have to find them…"

And on and on the mantra went;

"I have to find _her..!"_

Yet no longer fierce was his resolve. It had felt to him as of late as though he had been trapped inside some cruel and twisted nightmare - as though some higher, heinous power had stared deep into the confines of his soul, reaching into his heart, taking that which he most adored and warping it beyond all recognition and in his head he still heard his own voice playing as a poor-timed tune - an off-key waltz, for such things he had never expected to fall from his own lips.

To retrieve her he had promised. To pursue her he had vowed. To cast away any _hint_ of fond recall he had oh-so _desperately_ told himself on many sleepless nights because, after all, what use was the love of a woman so unpredictable; so shamelessly traitorous; so desperate to throw herself headfirst into perils untold with another man's name ringing from her lips..?

And, whilst Tadase knew deep down within his heart that he would never sleep again whilst such an injustice still went unanswered… Why must he find her, he wondered? _Why_ must he face her? What would he ever _do_ once faced with such a sight again?

But, in truth… He did not know. Tadase did not know _what_ he would do with her. Black sails and blue hair and ice-white diamonds were one thing… But pink? Golden eyes and rosy cheeks and laughter like a flowing spring?

Tadase stopped in his tracks. At last the pacing ceased and struck dead he stood in the middle of his study, his face aglow in the sunlight, his hair a beacon blond and heavenly as a halo about his head... And, slowly, his eyes fell upon the desk.

About it's surface was yet another chaos. Maps. Plans. Layouts of ships and itineraries and lists of supplies all lay spread unorganised and careless before his gaze… And yet, amidst it all, there stood out but a single sheet - a single, crumpled piece of parchment; ripped at the edge, torn down from some bulletin in its haste; burned and black at the edges and marked with official print;

 **PROCLAMATION:**

 _ **For the Apprehension and Trial of;**_

 **IKUTO TSUKIYOMI  
** _ **Captain and most Notorious Pyrate of the**_ **Shining Black.**

" _The Shining Black…"_

The words left Tadase's lips before he had even realised they were on his tongue - a whisper so slight that they barely even reached his ears; that he barely even felt them fall even as he uttered on in time with that fateful declaration;

" _ **To be Apprehended and Hang'd under Claims of several Acts of Pyracy**_ …"

And there that buccan's face sprang out against the pale parchment and his gaze, though composed of mere paper and ink, was piercing; all-knowing; following and mocking as he read those boldly-printed words aloud, drawn and guided as though by some inexplicable force;

" _..._ _ **including the Battle of July 4th whereby Tsukiyomi and his Accomplices did strike and engage in Unlawful Conflict with His Royal Majesty's**_ **Emerald Line** _ **, and**_ …"

And Tadase stopped. The words halted - ceased of a sudden in their tracks. His jaw hung slack, his throat was dry. He could not read the rest of that parchment. Nor could he bring himself to follow that line even with his gaze, for he knew all too well by now how the rest of it read…

 _ **...and of his involvement in the Orchestration  
and Nefarious Abduction of Her Royal  
Highness Princess Amu Hinamori. **_

_**By Order of His Royal Majesty King Tsumugu Hinamori.**_

And, suddenly - whether by some trick of the light or the delusions of his own imagination, he could not tell - Tadase could have sworn he saw the caricature smirk. It's eyes were twinkling; his brows disgruntled and furrowed; his hair a monotone mess about the strong line of his cheekbones…

Tadase's heartbeat stopped dead in his chest. His lungs burned. His frustration for just one single, _briefest_ of moments seemed to falter… And, for a moment, the Commander felt at a loss.

It was as though the reality had never fully hit him. It was as though he had been somehow blind up until now. It as if suddenly his head was clear enough to fully realise - to _fully_ comprehend - just how dearly his heart had grown to ache at such a memory; at such inescapable _grief._

' _Tsukiyomi…'_

 _Ikuto_ Tsukiyomi…

' _My…'_

"M-My…"

" _Brother!"_

And above the roar of the sea and the crash of the surf that young boy's voice still rose high and shrill somewhere deep within his memory; the wind still echoing in his ears as he sprinted through the sea grass and tumbled about the sand, whipping at his tiny, chubby cheeks as the little blond boy yelled;

" _Big brother!"_

" _Big brother, play for me!"_

" _Play another one for me!"_

For a moment, Tadase thought he could feel some long, old-forgotten scar tear open anew - fresh and deep within his chest. For a second, he felt the blood rise up, hot and searing, welling up until his very being was drawn dry and lifeless and desperately limp across the desk. The Commander did not know that he had fallen back into his chair. He did not realise that his cheeks were wet nor that such old wounds still lingered somewhere in the dusty, darkness confines of his aching heart.

For one, _brief_ moment, he let that grief consume him.

His brother…

The man who had ended it all.

And then, just as quickly, the rage returned.

" _CURSE YOU!"_

Tadase's voice was seething - as sudden as a flash of lightning; as tumultuous as the roar of thunder; as hissing and scalding and searing as a touch of venom. His vision red; his mind blank; the echo of his rage rebounding endlessly against the walls as he stood and spat and cursed aloud;

" _CURSE YOU, BUCCANEERS!"_

A crash. A shattering of glass. The crumpling and fluttering as many parchments flew to the floor, swept clean off the face of the desk as in his ire the Commander cast off all that lay before him. Ornate candelabras went clattering to the ground. Pens and ink pots his the cabinet to his right. Fresh was and a cup of tea sell steaming onto the rug below and Tadase stood there breathing, panting heavily, his shoulders hunched and crumbled as a tin man bent under the weight of his sorrow. But, though stooped and weathered his body might have been, his gaze was as stern as steel, a dangerous glint sparkling ever-brightly in his eye was he lifted his eye and said;

"Whatever they do…" he vowed; "Wherever they go… No matter how _desperately_ they might try to flee… I _shall find them._ I'll find them _all! I'll grab them by the scruff of their mangy necks and I'll leave them to SUN-DRY AT THE GIBBET!"_

And, utterly spent, he sent his fist down onto his desk and collapsed back into his chair.

" _They'll sun-dry at the gibbet…"_

~.~.~

It was perhaps a week after that their first problem arose.

It had taken Ikuto and Utau, both working long and hard into the gathering night, perhaps two days at most to have fully learned Kazuomi's invented writing system. Indeed they had made sure that no symbol escaped their sight; that no map nor document nor anything else that Hikaru had so graciously surrendered would hold unto them any secrets hidden or otherwise. Amu had been with them for some of it. For the first night at least she remained in the main cabin and admired the delicately illustrated map with wide and curious eyes, following those inky dragons down the line of the page, staring out over scrawled seas and sketchy shores and in her head she envisioned hidden isles dark and devious and most worthy of such a deceitful man such as Kazuomi Ichinomiya. Her knowledge of the old, archaic tongue of Sieyo's law too came to be of far more use than Ikuto could express, for in their ransacking of the Captain's cabin they had found quite a thick scroll comprised of several pages all written in that prestigious text and so there the former heir to the Crown had sat, jotting down notes and translations where useful until sleep had overcome her and a wash of exhaustion had had her slumped across the desk, breathing softly, drifting so deeply that she had barely felt her love's hand upon her shoulder nor that gentle peck upon her brow.

As it was, Amu had had little success in sleep ever since that little trip to the mainland. Somehow it seemed impossible - seemed futile and reckless - to so much as think of succumbing to such a peaceful bliss when somewhere out there there still waited a man overdue the call of justice; when just across the corridor in Ikuto's cabin there lay the key to hunting him down as the dog he truly was; when as she lay in bed and gazed across the fine line of the sea she saw it sparkle beneath the starlight as the Key around her neck and heard the call of its partner beckon - felt the pull of its presence draw her ever further across the water.

But, whilst it may have been that they'd found their solution - whilst it might have been true that they held more hope to fulfilling their intent with the help of the young Lord's work more than ever before - it soon came to be that they hit their first snag in that long, long road toward revenge and redemption.

They had been forced to abandon the tropics - and that was perhaps the most inconvenient of their issues more than anything. In general, it was preferable for a pirate to return to the warmer latitudes around the turn of winter and throughout the mild chill of fall, for the north grew bitter much quicker and there grew an abundance of free and foragable food throughout the southern isles - not to mention that they were free to do so without the risk of contracting the many fevers and diseases that were rife and contagious throughout the summer months. But it was on the third day after their visit to Hikaru's home - just when Ikuto had grown intent on plotting a steady course southward towards the first potential plot of islands that his stepfather might once have frequented - that they had descried the telltale smudge of white sails far beyond the line of the sea, peeping up over the rise of the rolling waves, to the naked eye but a cloud slowly sinking out of sight, yet their watchman's eye was keen and their spyglass moreso and therefore, upon seeing the turn of her prow and the wind in her sheets, they had hastily made their retreat. She had seen them, no doubt, and her colours had begun to rise atop her mast when last they'd caught her, but it was all for naught. She was but a mortal before a myth and before she had even crossed a hundred leagues the Shining Black had vanished, dissipating before her very eyes and making off into the boundless blue beyond. Rumours would fly, the crew of that diamond sail thought. Soon enough, tales did indeed make landfall towards the west - spreading through Seiyo as a fire across coal; fanning the flames; igniting that spark of intrigue that had gripped the common folk, for ever their ears still hearkened to the mystery of the empty sea and to word of the royal maiden who somewhere still roamed her father's waters.

And certainly Ikuto now stood aboard the forecastle of the Shining Black, uneasily casting his eyes over the faint shimmer of the dawn on the sea and feeling a chill run down his spine, for these truly were the King's waters. Since that first brief encounter, they had narrowly avoided no less than three further ships of the line - _more_ even if, as he suspected, some had been the heads of further fleets beyond their sights. In their panic, they had been forced to turn towards the northwest, away from the warm oceans where they had preferred to dwell and ever-closer to that shadow that still lingered as a choking smog over the country of Seiyo. With every day they grew closer to the impending doom they knew awaited them at the hands of the law; they drifted further from their target; and now, as they were driven from those blessed tropical lands, they were beginning to run increasingly low on many of the fruits they were dependent on. In less than a month, Ikuto thought, they would start to suffer if they did not find a way to replenish their supplies.

And so, in short, Ikuto was deeply troubled, dwelling deep in his own murky thoughts, as he watched the first of his crew exchange hands, newly-risen men ambling up from the hatchway and releasing their grateful colleagues from the gruelling night shift. Though, in truth, it was almost hard to believe that such a malice had ever dwelt here. It was hard to believe right now that there even lay such a heaviness over their hearts, for this dawn was truly like the most magnificent watercolour Ikuto had ever seen. All around them the waters lay calm, lapping gently at the hull beneath them, glowing lilac beneath the receding night. The ship still lay in a shroud of mist - a sea fog so thin and wispy, lingering above the water as a heavenly cloud, stained a pink so gentle and pure that in that moment the world seemed wholly serene. They could have been becalmed - sat still in this little bubble far away from the troubles of this world - and Ikuto would not have cared. Breathing deeply, the air was light and crisp. He almost entirely forgot their peril then.

"Mornin',"

Or, at least, he _did_ right up until a familiar face sidled up to him. Kukai leant up against the ship beside him and nodded out towards the crystal waters. "But chill this far north," he said casually; "but it's nice an' calm enough. We're thinkin' it might clear up with the sun."

To this Ikuto hummed noncommittally in response. If he was being honest, he would much have preferred to stay stood here in the thin sliver of respite between the dark of night and the waking of the world, for it would be yet another day ahead of gruelling labour and unfulfilled tasks if the long-winded struggle of the coded map was anything to go by. If he saw but one other nonsensical symbol, he swore he'd go mad.

And then, as if Kukai had somehow miraculously read his very thoughts - as if he had somehow managed to delve deep into the workings of his inner mind and had decided that now would be the perfect time to torment him even more - he just _had_ to pipe up;

"Any luck with those mystery hideouts yet? Ya know - the ones on the map?"

Ikuto's face must have dropped dramatically then because Kukai immediately sighed.

"Never thought it'd be so hard," he mused to himself. "Well, the decoding and such, that is. We even got a lesson from the young Lord hi'self!"

"Utau is still trying to translate." Ikuto said somewhat stiffly. "Learning it has not been _easy_."

He took that chance to send Kukai a particularly stern look to which the younger pirate just shrugged half-heartedly. Ikuto thought in that moment that he would have very much liked to see _Kukai_ try to decode such an unexpectedly sophisticated writing system. Ikuto had been a fool to think that this would have been a straightforward task. As it had turned out, Kazuomi's writing system when translated was quite unlike any other prose found in the world today. As it turned out, he had not decided to style his notes after any fashion of the modern tongue, rather he had evidently taken to using the old script of Seiyo - the founding language of the very country that flourished today; the kind that was reserved for official documents and royal decrees and customs of their court of law. And, therefore, it had turned out that to have a member of the royal line aboard their very ship had been a blessing. Ikuto and Utau's knowledge of the archaic tongue was shaky at best - pieced together from fragments of childhood memory; from glimpses of script along tapestries or gold-picked letters on books or plaques hewn from stone and set high above their heads; little hints and slivers and reminders that had been weathered over time and choked by smoke and ash as their once-grand home came crashing down all around them, and burying whatever remnants still held strong deep beneath the ruins.

But, somehow, Ikuto did not feel a chill at that recollection. He did not feel yet another shiver leap up his spine at the sudden memory, for his thoughts had been turned almost entirely towards that very blessing and it was then, as the first of the fog began to lift - as the thin veil of mist slowly began to peel back as gossamer drapes before the breeze - that Ikuto saw the line of the water steeped in red, shining under the rising sun a gold so piercing - so dazzling and alight in a heavenly blaze - that his heart was swayed.

"Where's Amu?"

The question sprung unbidden from his thoughts, bursting from his lips before he could even catch up with the workings of his own inner mind, but it was obvious to him now that such glorious gold and blush, blossoming pink would only ever invoke such a connection in his mind. It was a flash of life. A burst of colour. It was soft and warm and all he lacked and so, despite himself, Ikuto couldn't help but smirk cheekily as he uttered;

"Where's our princess this morning?"

Kukai shot him such a knowing, _fiendish_ look that it was almost embarrassing. Or, at least, it _would_ have been had the Captain's mind not been so focused on the colours of this watercolour dawn. At the very least he didn't say aloud whatever jest was on his mind and, come to mention it, Ikuto thought it was quite astounding that _none_ of his crew had yet spoken aloud about their Captain's fancy for the forme heiress of Seiyo. Their whispers were always amused, but never mocking. Their glances were never scandalised, but respectful. They tipped their hats and bowed their heads whenever they passed and when they caught sight of the curious couple side-by-side on-deck, their expressions turned as soft as a gentle breeze; their eyes as warm as summer light… And Ikuto remained astounded, but grateful even as Kukai chuckled and nodded towards the stern.

"Been up with Utau all night in yer cabin." Kukai said simply. The wind blew lightly then, ruffling his rusty hair about his face, and his cheeks grew colourful in the pale light of the early morning sun. " _Honestly!_ " he laughed; "You've got a _princess_ in ya cabin all night an' ya didn't think ta join her? That's mental, if you don't mind my sayin' so, Cap'n!"

In any other situation, Ikuto might have smacked Kukai upside the head for such a remark, but, as it was, he was still too enraptured by the glowing scene before him - by the multicoloured show of the sun on the water and the stain of the clouds and that vision in his head of honey gold - to truly pay attention. Though it was true that he had been reluctant to leave the two woman in his quarters all night, working by themselves, slaving over all those nonsensical notes that had driven him insane. It had all been a bit too much for him that night. It had almost been suffocating stuck there in that cabin that had once held such horrors, surrounded by the psychotic scribblings of the very beast that had lurked there and so he had quite hastily taken his leave, muttering something about the night watch and ambling perhaps too quickly out onto the deck. He had lingered here that night, overseeing, but not really _watching_ his compliant crew. Rather he had reminded beside the mizzenmast, his head tipped thoughtfully back towards the sky and his eyes alight and twinkling beneath the fleeting stars, for if any could guide him unto his ultimate destination, Ikuto thought - if any could shine light upon his own inner compass; could pierce through the shroud of undying fog; if _any_ could deliver him across the night and beyond the sea… It was that blissful light; those tranquil sparks breathing life and meaning into the empty, never-ending void above; it was the very light beneath which he had first truly come to realise how his heart truly ached with love and longing for that fair and flighty maiden.

But, though he had learned to long for the light of the stars a long, _long_ time ago, Ikuto could not deny that it was she who had dragged him through towards the dawn. And so it was that he had learned to love the sun. Sunlight upon gold. Sunlight upon the water. Bold, unwavering rays of fire-hot courage seeping into his skin and casting clarity upon this more liberating world would perhaps draw him far closer to his rightful path than any shimmer of starlight could. And if ever the sun now rose and she was not beside him, his spirit would forever grow chill and tormented with unrest.

And so Ikuto made off quicker than his crewmate could finish his sentence. Leaving Kukai chuckling and shaking his head behind him, Ikuto strode back aft and briskly left the chill of the morn for the relative warmth of his cabin, all the while biting back a delightful smirk. He half-suspected that he would find that pink-haired, stubborn little woman half-collapsed in a chair at his desk or else slumped up against the bottom of the bedpost, worked to the very bone under the strict and unforgiving orders of his sister. Utau was never an easy person to work in a confined space with for any amount of time (to which he supposed he partly owed his hasty retreat the night before, far more in favour of spending a night in the open than with his more-than-usual temperamental sister), much less so, even, when she was particularly frustrated with this whole map business.

Ikuto took a deep breath before entering his cabin - the very same cabin that his been his nightmare for the past ten years of his life, yet now it was truly unrecognisable. Stood here now in the grand space of the Captain's cabin, it was hard to believe that such a malice had ever dwelt here.

Dark was this cabin no longer. Grim and foreboding and beyond redemption was Kazuomi's former cabin no more. It had perhaps been their new Captain's first port of call after settling to reside here himself - once the clouds had cleared and the danger had passed and once all around them there lay spread nothing but the safe, satisfying sight of empty sea - to scour this ship from keel to deck; to exorcise the irrepressible darkness; to rid it's decks of any lasting memory of that tyrant that had sought to pervert such a glorious craft into nothing more than a tool for his own, nefarious deeds. Tirelessly and vigorously these men had worked to transform her. The hull had been caulked and saved from impending disrepair; the decks had been scrubbed thrice a day for three whole days after the last remnants of Seiyo had sunk beyond sight; line had been rewound and sails had been straightened and, even after all of that - even after such a herculean task… Just about every man had banded together and one by one they had stripped the Captain's cabin of all that had once made it such a foreboding lair. Hours of scrubbing it had taken. Days of toil and sweat and muscle and sometimes still, even now, occasionally it could be felt in the dead of night as though something still yet stirred in the depths of the shadows - as if there remained something lurking in the corners; something intangible and icy cold and as dark as the very depths of the ocean floor… But here, even in the weak flicker of the candlelight, the change was undoubtedly remarkable.

The planks were polished. The air was clean and fresh. Wax and dust and age-old grime no longer clung to every surface as they once had done, clinging on with greasy fingers as if for dearest life as the years drew on and the shine of this grandest ship began to fade. The furniture remained as it always had before, yet still to Ikuto it felt as though all were brand new - as if this place had been rejuvenated beyond recognition. Just the shine of the newly-cleaned windows caught Ikuto off-guard, the diamond glass glowing subtly in the gathering light…

But the only thing that unsettled his soul was the sight of the chaos inside. Utau and Amu were each seated on two of the many, ornate rugs and all about them there remained the fruitless efforts of their night's endeavours. Papers and parchment and scrolls lay strewn all about the floor of the cabin until Ikuto could barely see the floor beneath. Many maps there also were, fluttering to the floor, some standing out in bursts of colour or in shades of darkest black beneath the sea of yellow and brown. To him it looked as if an entire atlas had been devastated - torn from its spine and left to scatter across the floor. Even in his head Ikuto still heard the dry scratching of paper against paper from countless sleepless nights before and the gentle hush of the sea beyond, but nothing more. He kept his head down for the briefest second. An old map lay half-torn before his feet. He faltered almost instantly then, but stood his ground nonetheless, for when he saw the state of this cabin he was wracked with a horrible chill. The chaos; the disorder; the spread of scrolls about the floor… It was all too familiar. It reminded him too much…

Ikuto shook his head. He did not wish to brood here as Kazuomi had done. Utau and Amu looked up as he walked in and both of them looked as if snapped from a dreadful daze.

"Ikuto!" Utau gasped aloud (probably before she even realised it) and blinked in confusion. Her eyes were wide and her face was pale. "You're on midnight watch?"

At this Ikuto almost chuckled aloud. He strode calmly over to the desk behind them and snuffed out the single candle between his fingertips. When the room did not darken, rather left faded and steeped in hues of blue and lilac under the new light beyond the window, Utau looked aghast.

"I left for midnight duty five hours ago, sister dearest." Ikuto rolled his eyes. Whilst Utau whirled around to blink in confusion at the cabin windows, utterly at a loss to realise that such time had passed, the Captain turned to hum at the girl to his left. "Long night, Your Highness?"

Amu's hair was thoroughly in disarray and large, grey bags swelled beneath her shining eyes, but, fair enough to the girl, she got to her feet immediately and folded her arms across her chest.

"You're going to have to come up with a better nickname for me, _ruffian_. It's hardly appropriate." Amu uttered, picking up an armful of tightly-bound journals and hauling them onto the top of a nearby sea chest. Currently at least five of them were reserved for dumping all of that which they didn't need - which they deemed useless and trifling in the greater scheme of things, for any documents left behind with reference to Kazuomi's hideaways was without fail their greatest priority. Amu continued; "I hope you didn't just barge in to amuse yourself, Ikuto."

Ikuto almost laughed and, indeed, that spark of mischievous humour that she so loved had begun to light up in the depths of his glorious eyes, but he quickly stopped. He caught himself - quelled the flame and bit back his tongue, for he saw now that these two ladies looked thoroughly harassed after such a night's work. Suddenly remembering himself, he changed his tone and moved towards the desk. His fingers trailed over a large stack of parchment all jotted with various annotations.

"What have you got?" He asked and, through the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the alphabet that Hikaru had provided for them. "What progress have we made with the young Lord's notes? Have we translated Kazuomi's papers?"

Upon hearing this, Utau immediately drew herself away from the window and all of a sudden her gaze was clear again and all confusion seemed to vanish as the mist outside. "For the most part." She began, marching back over to the table and hauling over a small pile of parchment with her. It hit the desk with a trickle of dust and she began to flicker through the pages. "There is very little of Kazuomi's writing system in the notes he left behind. Or, at least, none of which will be of any use to us. Most of them are old letters to his henchmen - secret messages, that sort of thing…" And, midway, Utau paused, her brows furrowing and her gaze deadly. "But there is something."

Ikuto couldn't deny that his breath hitched suddenly in his throat. He couldn't deny that, almost immediately, he felt his blood heat up as though ignited by the flames of his own fury, for with every step they took to trail down this man he felt his resolve strengthen. And so, lowly, he said;

"Show me."

"There is a map," Utau said, her gaze locking with his; " _another_ map just like the one his grandson gave us. It was found from the stash of scrolls we found beneath the planks. Except…"

Ikuto frowned. "Except..?"

"Except," Amu spoke up hesitantly, clutching in her arms a folded, crumpled-looking document. She placed it before them and, her fingertips oh-so-gently trailing the edges, she shook her head and sighed. "Except it looks to have been redesigned. There are newer symbols - later ones - far more lavish and intricate than the ones we've seen before…"

She didn't even have to finish because Ikuto had already guessed. "And," he heaved an almighty sigh; "not included in the young Lord's notes."

And when Amu unfolded the map before his very eyes, he saw that he was right. Near-identical to the former this map was - illustrations and landmarks and all - yet Ikuto saw even from afar, even as he lowered his eyes and raked a hand through his hair, that there was scattered about the seas new and far more stylised symbols that he could never hope to fathom. Country names and similar markings were the only words omitted and instead it appeared that Kazuomi had seen fit to only mark the locations and identities of little isles - just about every little isle from here in the icy north to the humid, sweltering tropics of the south…

"But there are hundreds of them." Ikuto uttered weakly, feeling his head begin to pound. "How should we know which..?"

It appeared Utau mirrored his thoughts, for she sighed heavily and, from the pile through which she'd been rifling, she produced a slip of parchment where there was written out in clearer script all of these new, mysterious names, inked far more carefully - far more neatly and boldly and so unusually artistically - than any they had ever seen.

"They are not individual place names," she told him, gesturing vaguely to the plethora of little markings that riddled the illustrated seas; "but it appears that they are grouped. Kazuomi marks each island with one of seven symbols. If we can figure out what each symbol _means_ then we can hope to guess which ones are our best bet of tracking him down…" And when the blonde glanced up and her eyes were wild, yet suddenly once more glazed with fatigue. "He _has_ to be on one of these islands, Ikuto… He _has_ to be! We have heard no word of him! No mention! No memory - _nothing!_ Whatever he was doing... W-Well, he-he would have made _some_ impact somewhere, surely!"

But Ikuto just rubbed out his eyes with a palm and tried his best to breathe - to think clearly and work with logic whilst these infuriating puzzles still lay sprawled all around his feet, yet still those secret messages lay scrawled about the lands untapped; untranslatable and as glaring as any obstacle they had ever approached, for each and every one of them knew that their every endeavour in pursuit of Kazuomi would be all for naught without these treasured hints. Currently, Ikuto and the two women stared wistfully at them. Even when he had long abandoned them - even when his spirit had long since departed and left all the world behind him steeped in mystery and confusion - Kazuomi still worked such devilry and trickery at their minds that it was almost hard to believe. It had taken them days to lay their hands on all of his secrets. It had taken perhaps a couple of weeks for them to be sure that they had rifled through all that their former Captain had to offer them - that they had finally laid their hands on every journal; every Captain's log; every map and scroll and scrap of parchment they could find, most of which they had found snuck and siphoned away in countless secret drawers; behind false panels in the back of bookshelves; tucked between the spaces between planks… They'd even found some old documents illustrating a common divide of loot inserted in the space between the wall and the base of the bed. This place had proved to be a maze - an intelligible riddle almost as baffling as that which lay before them now as they cast their eyes for the thousandth time over the information Hikaru had given them, but, though it had seemed so simple back then in that dingy study, now this conundrum seemed utterly incomprehensible… Now they had no idea - no clue, no _hint_ \- as to how they might distinguish each island from the next without the proper code, for surely their former Captain could not have had so _many_ islands at his disposal…

(Or, at least… They hoped not.)

" _One_ of these symbols must be the hint we need…" Ikuto whispered, more to himself to get his head around the whole matter, to ground himself in the moment lest he be carried far off by his own misgivings, unaware that he had spoken aloud into the still air of the cabin. His words washed uneasy over his companions. Utau for the first time almost looked guilty, though Amu suspected it had more to do with her lack of knowledge - that it lay in some sort of humiliation, for, as hard as she might have tried, she had been unable to decide which isles would be of any use in their search and they had truly grown despondent at the prospect of having to scour so many little slabs of rock scattered about the sea.

"It's a pity he didn't just mark them all with a big red 'X', huh?" Amu murmured half-heartedly then.

Ikuto hummed in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything. He set down the pile he had been idly flicking through perhaps more forcefully than needed and looked up for the first time in what felt like hours. Just outside, reflected in the dazzling stern window, he saw that the moon was just beginning to sink below the horizon, consumed by the swell of the sea. The upward rise of the morning sun must have been well underway, he thought, for the edges of that magnificent view was stained with the slightest, softest hints of orange and pink, swallowing the purple night.

"Ikuto,"

Utau's voice drew him back into the moment. All of a sudden, he was reminded of the presence of others in the room. Amu was looking at him curiously. Utau was speaking and it was heavy - so suddenly low and tense that it was hard to believe that it was actually _her_ voice echoing about the room. She shook her head hopelessly.

"I doubt we'll be able to decode any of this…"

It was like a sudden blow - a sudden strike landed square in the chest - but it was nothing that Ikuto didn't already know. It was more as though he'd been too afraid to admit it, he thought as he glanced back at the plethora of parchments littered in-between them. He was met with the sudden urge to boot a nearby stack of leather-bound logs. A frustration so red and raw was bubbling away within his chest that Ikuto couldn't even bring himself to reply. He had not even anticipated the use of a code until he and his crew had first started rifling through the many abandoned papers left behind in Kazuomi's wake. His stepfather (as much as he hated to admit it) was undeniably a smarter, far more fiendish man than any of them had ever thought. To say they had been thrown off the trail would have been an understatement, for, though they had stalked these seas and scourged this cabin for all it was worth endlessly ever since their target had disappeared, vanishing as silently and swiftly as a mist before sunrise, and now… Well... He was nowhere to be found.

"We're sure no one aboard is aware of a newer code?"

Amu's voice was small and tentative - almost drowned and swallowed whole by the irrepressible weight of silence - but it reached them nonetheless. Ikuto looked up briefly and felt his expression soften. He knew as well as she that it was a hope beyond hope… But that single, little effort warmed his heart all the same.

"No," Utau replied. "Kazuomi would never have told any save perhaps his own men." And then she frowned, glancing about the room and scrutinising the many papers at their feet with a keen, piercing stare. "Still… It does not sit well with me that Kazuomi would be so bold as to leave all his documents behind…" Before her nose there lay an ink-smudged map. She bent down briefly to pick it up. Her expression soured considerably. "To think that we would be too simple to decipher them… How _demeaning._ "

"Perhaps he had not the time to take them all with him." Amu suggested. Utau nodded, looking deep in thought and fell back into an unusually quiet lull.

There was a silence then - as unwelcome and stifling as any - and suddenly, though the sun was rising and the light strengthening by the second, it felt to each and every one of them as though they were sinking into a deep, dark well of despair and desperation from which they could not escape; which surrounded them in a suffocating silence so impenetrable that not even the sea breeze could pierce it; not even the resounding echoes of their own frustrated cries could break it. And, in that moment, Ikuto suddenly felt as though he'd been dragged bodily from all source of light - from all hint of star or glow of moon or ray of sunlight. In the end, he glanced once more at the mess of papers that occupied his personal quarters and heaved a sigh.

"It doesn't matter." He said eventually. Utau and Amu watched him curiously as he began to gather up the paperwork one by one, separating them into whatever order he could manage and beginning to take them over to an empty cabinet - the big one beside the sea cases with a thick glass door and a sturdy brass lock. He didn't want to read them. He didn't want to look at them. For today and possibly tonight, at least, Ikuto wanted these infernal drafts out of sight and out of mind, for they had begun to plague his every thought - interrupting his concentration; wreaking havoc with his daily tasks; seeping into his dreams; disorientating his very mind with impossible shapes and squiggles and sketches beyond his comprehension; hanging like a dark shadow over his head. "We'll get nowhere unless we're well-rested." He said and, seeing the dawning realisation spreading across his sister's face - seeing the flush of her cheeks and the spark of indignation in her keen eyes - Ikuto interrupted before she so much as had a chance to open her mouth; "You're relieved from duty, Utau." He said sternly. "And if I catch you trying to sneak so much as a scrap of parchment from this room-"

"Ikuto, I won't have it!" the blonde piped up, apparently unable to contain herself anymore. "Amu and I - we're so _close!_ If you'll just let me narrow these groups down-!"

"You and Amu," Ikuto began, glancing briefly in the rosette's direction, unable to shake the nagging feeling that he sounded very much like a father trying to coerce his disobedient child into bed (and, in fact, he almost wanted to share a particularly withered look with her, for she almost looked as exasperated as he); "looked about ready to drop dead the moment I came in here. You are relieved from duty."

The door to the cabinet swung heavily shut, the latch clicking audibly as Ikuto firmly locked away the last lingering papers. In the dim light cast across its surface he could see his sister's reflection. She looked utterly aghast.

"Ikuto… Ikuto, this man… These _papers_ -"

"To _hell_ with Kazuomi's papers!" Ikuto snapped. "The wretched cretin's not even here anymore and still he works us half to death."

"Just because it's a little _harder_ than you initially _thought-!"_

The pitch of Utau's tone had reached untold new levels, but the stony look on Ikuto's face cut her dead off. His eyes were dull, his jaw set tight. The Captain of the Shining Black turned slowly towards his sister, staring coldly into lilac eyes. There was a second or so of uneasy silence - an unwelcome pause during which Amu watched the clock on the bookshelf tick nervously and the two siblings continued to share some unspoken argument, their gazes piercing, their shoulders squared, each as unyielding as the other. Amu briefly wondered which would back down first... But then Ikuto found his voice. When he spoke, she had the distinctive impression that he was trying his very best to reign back his fury.

"No amount of ' _hard work'_ , is going to keep me from finding him." Ikuto said lowly. " _No one_ wants to hunt him more than I."

In fairness, Amu thought that that was probably true enough, but she stayed quiet and the longer she watched their exchange the more she thought she understood. The longer she watched, the more she noticed. She noticed the circles beneath the Captain's eyes; she saw the grimace on his lips every time he glanced at the cabinet; she saw his eyes grow jaded and dull and with every hint - every _reminder_ he lay his eyes on - she watched some dark, new shadow wash unsettlingly across his face. She wondered when he'd last slept. She wondered when he'd last allowed himself respite from their current predicament. Amu had realised the previous night that his leave had been necessary for his own sanity… But now, as she watched, Amu wondered if it had been too little too late.

And again, in the dim light of the cabin, Ikuto hissed;

"You are off duty, Utau."

Perhaps it was just Amu's imagination, but something about his tone seemed final. In fact, it must have been real, she reasoned, because it was then that Utau visibly deflated. Her gaze was still seething, her teeth still grit, but, somehow, it appeared that she had met her match. It was a good few moments before she found the words to speak again.

"Well," Utau whispered, her arms across her chest, her nose stuck up high with whatever dignity she could muster. "If I am not wanted here," she began mockingly; "then perhaps I'll see what use the crew has for me."

It wasn't much, but at the very least it might have stopped her from sinking further into the very pit of obsession that Ikuto had wanted to avoid, he thought, though he could not deny that as soon as his ire died he was consumed by the most irrepressible, nagging sense of guilt. He glanced after her as she turned on her heel, muttering some obscenity and flouncing towards the door as quickly as she could manage. Her cheeks were red and burning with humiliation. Ikuto's heart clenched. Just as she was about to reach for the doorknob, he opened his mouth to intervene.

But he never made it. And nor did Utau, for it was at that very moment - just as Ikuto was about to cave; just as Amu was about to quietly sink into her own blissful slumber in the background whilst neither had noticed - that the doors flew open, banging thunderously against the wall, resounding throughout the stern so suddenly that Ikuto almost shuddered at the déjà-vu, flinching on instinct as if expecting to be met with the sight of steely eyes and a long, black cloak and bootsteps as calamitous as an earthquake beneath the ocean.

But there was none of that. No - no surging, shadowy force; no terrifying gaze; no booming voice nor rumbling growl nor terror in the form of their most oppressive former Captain. No… There before them, none other than Kukai was bent over double, his hands on his knees, panting heavily. His cheeks flushed and his mouth agape, the young pirate took a moment to brace himself in the doorway, clearly having sprinted perhaps the entire length of the frigate to get there. Utau stumbled beside him, dazed, but she otherwise composed herself very quickly. Amu was jolted out of her fatigue. Blinking and utterly puzzled, Ikuto merely raised an eyebrow, regarding his crewmate with a sort of scrutiny normally reserved for dingy, dilapidated taverns or when passing a madman on the side of the road or, well… _Kukai_.

"What on earth's the matter with you?" Ikuto mumbled.

" _Kukai?"_ Amu said aloud. He glanced up then and tried to give her what she could only suppose was meant to be a wave and a cheeky wink, but it came out weak and feeble as he failed to catch his breath. "What have you been _doing_ to yourself?" She immediately grabbed a goblet of… _something_ that Utau had left on the edge of the desk and offered him a drink, but he shook his head and, though his face was pink with exertion, Kukai's knuckles were white and firm as he held his fist up before them.

"It's _Daichi…_ " He managed between breaths. He somehow managed to even out his pulse, managed to soothe his burning lungs, as he strode into the cabin far more steadily, all the while waving about his fist. "He's back! He's… He's come back… From the shore..."

For a brief second, Ikuto felt like slamming his forehead against the table. In the background, Amu and Utau exchanged clueless looks. Yes, it might have been true that Daichi the parrot had made himself scarce as of late, but it was also true that they really had no good use for the bird anymore. Not since Kazuomi's departure, that was. The dumb bird's sole purpose throughout their former Captain's time on this ship had been purely for communication - for sending messages back and forth from the mainland where there in the shadows still lay the last of Kazuomi's band of ruthless lackeys; of his on-shore gangs that had once torched and terrorised a nation all in pursuit of the Humpty Lock and the Dumpty Key that accompanied it. They would relay to him that which he needed - the locations of naval fleets; the course of ships worthy of plunder; they would indulge in the retelling of current affairs and occasionally might receive something back of whatever notorious scheme their Captain was cooking up himself...

But, of course, Kazuomi was no longer amongst them. None save he had been permitted to send forth any sort of message from the deck of the Shining Black and none would reply unless Kazuomi had first reached out. Ever since then, Daichi's existence had been far less bound to the ship than before and it was not uncommon for him to disappear from time to time if there were islands nearby for him to roost on and so, exhausted as it was and thoroughly disgruntled, Ikuto frowned and massaged his temples.

"Kukai, I don't care about your God-damned parrot."

But, apparently and quite unhelpfully, Kukai was unfazed.

"No! Cap'n - you don't understand! Daichi's been back to the mainland…" And then the pirate grinned devilishly and once more proffered his fist;

"And he's brought ya a little gift."

When he opened his palm, Ikuto saw a single scroll inside. It was perhaps half the size of Kukai's hand, rough and well-worn around the edges, whitened mercilessly by sun and sea salt… But on it's edge was a blackened seal and beneath it was a roughly-drawn marking which Ikuto recognised as one of his stepfather's infamous symbols. His heartbeat quickened. Across the room, Utau flew over to the rust-haired pirate and snatched the scroll from his grasp, her jaw hung agape.

"It's marked with one of his seals…" she whispered aloud, turning the thing over time and time again in her hands. When she brought her eyes back up to her brother, he could hardly tell whether she was elated or terrified. "Kazuomi's gangs… His men on-shore…"

Behind him, Ikuto heard Amu let out a tiny ' _oh!'_ in intrigue and he knew then that she must have understood. Hell, he was not even sure that _he_ understood. Kazuomi, he had so confidently thought, must have had every help from each of his groups on-shore to so successfully orchestrate his escape from them. He _must_ have shared with each and every one of them his plans to abandon ship and vanish off into night, leaving them foundering so uselessly behind him… And so, perhaps not unreasonably, it took several moments for it all to sink in.

Ikuto was quiet for a minute or so as he stared quite warily at the scroll in Utau's grasp… But, of course, his hesitation passed over as quickly as a far-off squall - as distant rain clouds, harmless and insignificant on the horizon. And, very quickly, he found himself smirking. Ikuto chuckled - a low, fiendish, _chilling_ sound that so suited the ship he sailed and the garb he wore and all the myth and legend that spread as ripples in their wake.

"Well… I don't think this was meant for _us._ " Ikuto drawled triumphantly, striding over to his sister and swiftly slipping the little piece of parchment from her hands. He held it up to the light, felt the course scratch of the paper beneath his fingertips and he sneered. "It looks like _someone_ wasn't aware of their master's treachery."

And, with that, the atmosphere of the cabin immediately changed. Gone was the tension; cast aside was their despair; no longer was this a place of torment and shadow and all nefarious things alike. No… Now the air was charged, yet it was not with fear - not with frustration. It was charged with excitement; with a spark of new life; new _hope._ Utau and Kukai and Amu all appeared at once at his side, their gazes flickering from his to the scroll and back again, their breaths held, their interest piqued. He looked at each of them in turn.

And, almost instantly, his smirk was mirrored by each of them as all the possibilities blossomed within their minds.

Without thinking twice, Ikuto ripped off the little black seal.

"What d'you bet this this'll give us a nice little hint?"

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : So I finally return and all I can offer you is a quick mostly-filler chapter… I'm so sorry.

But at least I'm back! Thank you for your patience! I haven't had much of a chance to write lately and I'd kind of been hit with a mental block for this chapter. I think it shows. I usually like to rewrite my chapters at least twice before posting them, but I've had no chance to do so and I just wanted to post something! I had no idea what to do because nothing I wrote felt right and I was still rearranging the plans around the beginning constantly. In the end I planned out about four different versions of this chapter before writing it. I think? Oh well, it's here now. I'll probably just revise it once the story's finished or something.

But anyway, as ever, let me know what you thought and I hope you'll look forward to the next update! I'll do my best to get round to it much quicker!


	4. Chapter Four

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

Amu didn't think she had ever been more furious - nor more scared - in all her life.

Well, perhaps that was an exaggeration, now that she thought about it. Maybe - now that her mind was growing increasingly dark and, in this mental pandemonium, sinking deeper into ever-darker places, recalling ever-darker memory - she thought that it was probably only suitable to say that she had never been more _furious,_ for she had indeed felt such fear before in her lifetime so as to chill a soul to the core and in her head she still felt that heavy dread overcome her heart as she stood in the shadow of the gallows; as she faltered before the icy stare of the Captain and his pistol primed; she felt it overwhelm her shaky spirit as a bitter, winter wind as she descended down, down, down into the very depths of the jailhouse where the clanking of chains still resounded, where the dark drowned out all hope and happiness, where with such despair and sorrow she was forced to look upon the man she loved as a man already dead - damaged and departed…

And so Amu truly doubted now that she would ever feel such fear again... But fury? Well, the former Princess of Seiyo had a fiery streak sure enough and it burned with such a scalding heat that it was no small miracle that the very sea beneath them had not begun to simmer and spit and sizzle away in puffs of steam as she tried desperately to reign her temper. Ikuto was positive as he watched her pacing restlessly about the cabin, sneaking wary glances out the corner of his eye, trying to maintain that cool façade he so relied on as he heard her huffing beneath her breath, that he was perhaps as good a dead man as he had been all those months ago in that grubby cell. Amu was gathering energy, he thought - building steadily as a stirring squall - and, in all honesty, he was already starting to brace himself. Besides, even if she _did_ decide to go easy on him when she finally unleashed her upcoming outburst, he had a feeling that his pride would not be so quickly spared.

But, Ikuto reasoned, he was the Captain. And a Captain had to stand his ground. He half-wished that Kukai had been a little slower in delivering the unexpected message instead of barrelling in like a bat out of hell at one of the most inopportune moments known to man. Honestly, everything about the man was haphazard - his speech; his humour; his clumsy strides, not to mention the way he so thoughtlessly threw himself headfirst into battle and _somehow_ came out the other side inexplicably untouched. Ikuto didn't know how Kukai did it, but he supposed that, even if the young pirate's timing _had_ been up to scratch, it wouldn't have changed a thing. Already he could feel the tide strengthening beneath his feet; a tug at his soul - as a pull from somewhere deep within his chest, growing as a gathering current, beckoning him toward the sun and beyond the horizon and unto new, untold shores across the sea and he knew that they - that he and Amu and Kukai and all these men aboard the Shining Black - had entered a new chapter. A new page. They had turned to face a new and untrod path in the grand scheme of their so far quite fruitless endeavour.

He knew it the moment his fingers had curled about that little scroll. He knew as soon as he saw the spark ignite in his sister's eyes. Ikuto knew it and he knew now that, whether Her Highness liked it or not, someone had called out to them.

And they would answer.

Kukai, Amu and Utau were all watching in amaze as the Captain slowly began to unfurl the little scroll, their hearts thumping, resounding throughout their chest, drowning out all else beneath that ' _thump-thump-thump!'_ ing echoing about their ears. The wax seal came off almost entirely in one piece. It glowed like obsidian in the dim light across the desk and yet it was nothing compared to the the gleam in Ikuto's eyes as he held that little sliver of parchment up to the light, smirking deviously, his gaze enraptured as though this tiny fragment of ink and paper would grant him every wish he so desired. And, as far as any of them knew... It very well might.

Ikuto knew it would.

Inside his chest the tug grew raw and relentless. The tide was calling. But yet he could not afford the time to savour the moment.

" _Ikuto!"_ Utau hissed suddenly. She inched forwards, her hands clasped together as if in desperate prayer, her eyes wide and hungry, poised and tense as though about ready to leap upon her brother and tear the information from his very lips. "What I'd _give_ to know where that bastard is right now..!" she uttered, sounding suddenly out of breath, her chest rising and falling in time with the steady rise and fall of the sea outside. A puff of salt and spray shot up from the side of the stern then, just reaching the bottom of the grand glass windows, catching the rising sun and shining as a plume of diamond dust, golden and dazzling in the light. And Utau's eyes dazzled with it, sharp and bright as she snapped; " _Open_ it, you idiot, Ikuto! How _long_ we've waited for something like this! What does it say? _Where's Kazuomi?"_

Kukai and Amu both visibly held their breath at this, for, though Utau's temperament was by now well-known to all aboard the ship, such impatience was unheard of… But, to their surprise, Ikuto barely blinked. He was engrossed. His breath was short. His heart was racing, rattling furiously away in his chest. His blood was surging throughout his veins and his eyes still all a-shimmer, his brows furrowed as deepest cobalt eyes travelled across that little piece of parchment far more times than he could count, for he could not believe it - could not _comprehend_ it..!

And, suddenly he burst out urgently;

" _Amu,_ pass me those sea charts!"

Amu blinked, snapped effectively from focus as Ikuto's eyes fell upon her. It took a moment for her to compose herself, but she scurried over to a small stack of papers left piled on one of the bookshelves and obediently laid them out upon the desk. In one, swift movement Ikuto threw all useless items to the floor - candlesticks and dried-up quills and heavy, antique ink pots - and dove in immediately, frenzied, yet methodical, pulling sheets and sheets from amongst the pile and spreading them across the desk until there before them in the dim light there lay arranged almost the entire west coast of Seiyo and, to the side, arrangements of every little isle and colony in its waters. Ikuto traced his fingers down the edge of the continent, apparently caught up in great concentration, barely paying any heed to those left with him in the room. In fact, it was a good long while before he thought to tear himself away again. Ikuto straightened oh-so slightly, his voice faint and heavy, yet there was a lilt to his tone - a barely-audible waver - that had all hung eagerly upon his every word;

"I'll give you this, Kukai," he muttered, half-distracted by the charts laid out beneath him; "your bird did good. This message is from one of Kazuomi's men all right. Or, in any case, it was at _first…"_

A pause. An exchanging of puzzled glances. Amu cocked her head to one side, frowning.

"'At first?'"

And, slowly, Ikuto raised his head. His eyes caught the light of the rising sun and glinted as a brilliant flame as he held the mystery message tightly between his fingers, waving it before her face.

"It's been _passed on_." He said quickly as if it answered every one of their queries. And, when his companions looked even more at a loss than before; "This first half of parchment is from one of Kazuomi's men on-shore to another. It's written in code - most of it which is translatable to us by now…" And he shook his head as if to rid himself of all unnecessary thought; "It doesn't _matter_. It looks to be a summons of sort, only neither of them state where or what this summons entails-"

At this Utau huffed quite loudly, her indignant tone echoing across the room as she folded her arms and said; "Well what use is that to _us?"_ She demanded. Kukai flinched somewhat at the ferocity of her voice, but, in all honesty, Amu thought that she had every right to sound irate - to be so caught up in exasperation and exhaustion as she was in that very moment. After all, no matter who or where the note had come from, if they could decipher nothing from it then, obviously, it should have been of no value and yet here was Ikuto, Ikuto was, prattling away over codes and sea charts, darting as a man possessed over his papers as if it would solve every one of their questions, apparently absorbed - _mesmerised_ \- in some little detail that they could not see…

But then he straightened and proffered the scroll to his sister and, with a delighted, deviant sort of smirk, he said;

"Look at it." Ikuto demanded. "It's been sent between Kazuomi's men, sure enough… But someone _else_ has passed it on to _us."_

And, sure enough, when Utau took it and lay it out before them they saw that there was a second sheet of parchment, bound to the first by a newer, fresher seal of wax, yet this was not a seal as black as the night nor did it hold the little, scratchy symbols that Kazuomi had written as riddles about his works. No, rather, it was a faded, darkened sort of reddish-pink that put the Tsukiyomi siblings in mind of the gardens of their former home - of amaranth and clematis and the little, flowering vines that used to bloom above their mother's balcony - and in it's centre there sat the outline of a maiden in a billowing dress, spread all about her as a bell, and her hair, though it's features were too tiny and delicate to be wholly distinguishable, seemed piled high in many curls atop her head. Amu, for some inexplicable reason, of a sudden felt overwhelmed by some nagging sense of déjà-vu at the sight. It was as though some alarm had been rung in her head. It was as though some spark had been ignited; some recollection dragged up and dusty from the undefined depths of her brain, but, for the _life_ of her, she could not work out why...

But she did not have any time to dwell on it, however, because at that moment Utau strode forwards and tore the new piece of parchment from the former, casting her gaze over it, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Ikuto was still smirking.

"It looks like Kazuomi has a rat amongst his men." He declared then and there was an edge to his voice - a delightful little rise in his tone - that absolutely _oozed_ with triumph, laced with a sadistic sort of mirth that seemed to saturate his very soul as he paced about the room, stalking like a cat before its prey; "And I think they want to get our attention. They've left us a bearing."

There was a pause - a heavy, yet apprehensive lull. Kukai and Amu whirled around and exchanged astounded expressions. Ikuto folded his arms across his chest and watched in amusement as the realisation spread across his sister's face. Utau's jaw was slackening, her knuckles whitening, her head shaking oh-so slightly as she strode over to the charts on the table and said;

"A bearing south… It cannot be…"

"Ya mean..." Kukai's voice was unusually small and slow, the gears visibly ticking in his head as he struggled to keep up with the sibling's train of thought. Ikuto and Utau were on a wavelength of entirely their own and so far it seemed that neither had realised that they'd left their cohorts trailing uselessly in the dust behind them - that the unique and inexplicable sort of harmony their own thoughts shared was utterly lost to those outside their bloodline. It only dawned upon them as Kukai uttered, frowning to himself; "Ya mean they've actually… They've actually _given_ us somewhere to sail? Whoever's sent this on has actually _told_ us where they are?"

At this the siblings simply looked back at him with that twinkle in their eyes. The poor man almost choked.

" _Nah!"_ Kukai burst in disbelief, almost tripping over himself again as he scampered over to get a good look at the scroll still in Utau's hand. "You've gotta be joking!" he said, torn clean between jubilance and terror. "Kazuomi's rat must 'ave some balls on 'em! How far's it out? Not much trouble from His Maj'sty's navy boys down south lately - ya think the bastard's hidin' out there?"

"We cannot say…" Utau murmured, biting absently on the edge of her lip and critically looking over the sea charts on the desk before them, but it was undeniable that there was an excitement about them now - a charge of energy and optimism so contagious that the three of them were beginning to look quite conspiratorial as they handed maps and scrolls and the very beginnings of half-cooked schemes about themselves, wrapped up in every detail, hanging on the Captain's every word as he started to chart their journey south until, at last, Amu stepped between them, exclaiming all of a sudden;

"You can't be _serious?"_ Amu cried. Silence fell at once. Ikuto and Utau had been whispering hurriedly amongst themselves, but now they stopped, struck to silence as some sort of ferocious disbelief crept into the rosette's tone. And damn right too, Amu thought! Her face was pale. Her stomach was dropping. She felt her heart sickeningly skip a beat inside her chest and, as she cast a dangerous look in Ikuto's direction, she was almost delighted to see him at a loss for words. She cast him her most scathing look;

"You're not _going,_ are you?" Amu spat. "You're not going to sail blindly off into the blue after the call of one of Kazuomi's men, _are_ you?"

A pause followed her sudden outburst and, again, the hesitance on Ikuto's face was reward enough. He opened his mouth - fumbled desperately in his brain for some sort of flawless response - but he found he could only close it again. In fact, he must have known that her alarm was valid, she thought, for he didn't even protest when his sister cut across him.

"Not one of Kazuomi's men, Amu." Utau said quickly, leaping to her brother's rescue. Somehow she remained unfazed by the blaze of fiery gold - her resolve untouched by the heat of the former princess' wrath as she beckoned Amu over and pointed to the line of the coast where the Kingdom of Seiyo dipped down to the south; "Kazuomi's _rat,_ Amu. It's here - this town out of sight from the Royal Navy. They do not dock there. They do not so much as gather provisions here. Not anymore. Not since Kazuomi's men near-burned the place to the ground a decade ago. They've been quite poor ever since, but still…" Utau paused, some old excitement rekindling across her features as she stared down at that little point on the chart. "It is fitting." she said; "Truly fitting that he would have a betrayer stationed there."

And, before Amu could so much as get another word in, Utau threw the message with the pink seal down unto the desk and faced her brother;

"It's reliable." she declared in a tone that seemed to leave absolutely no room for argument - as though it were set in stone; in the wash of the current, immovable and steadfast; as though it were laid out in the very stars themselves and all their course already placed before their feet. Utau snatched up the portion of sea charts which would plot their course towards the west - towards the very nation they had fled from - and nodded at the note upon the desk. "And, at the very least, it is compelling. We'd better get moving." she told them. "I shall speak with our navigator. And I'll send the parrot with tidings to our mystery host."

Quite simply, Amu remained dumbfounded. "U-Utau!" she spluttered. "B-But we-we want to _avoid_ the mainland! We can't return to Seiyo! Not _now_! Not after Ikuto and Kukai-!"

"Amu."

The princess stopped dead. Utau's tone was as chill as a winter frost; as piercing as a new-hewn blade and when Amu finally faced her - when she finally met those eyes, alight and relentless and glimmering with some newfound determination… Well, there was just something there. There was something swirling about those lilac depths that leapt above all else, yet somehow it seemed restrained, subtle even, but, whatever it was, Amu suddenly felt struck by the distinct impression that Utau was holding back - that there was more to her sudden persistence than there first appeared. And, what was more, Amu thought that Ikuto had seen it too, for she saw his brow furrow in confusion or curiosity - whichever she could not tell.

And it utterly stumped her.

But, in the meantime, Utau remained unwavering and as iron-willed as ever;

"We make for Seiyo."

And, apparently, that was that. Amu, effectively silenced, could do little more than splutter uselessly as the blonde, barely staggering under such a hefty column of papers and scrolls, turned with a flick of her pigtails and made off towards the door. "Kukai!" Utau barked over her shoulder, her pigtails trailing behind her as she spun upon her heel. "Fetch Daichi! We set our course!"

"Y-Yes, ma'am…" Kukai followed after her meekly, looking like a startled puppy with its tail between his legs as he trailed after her. The cabin door shut with an almighty ' _bang!'_ behind them and their footsteps echoed throughout the corridors long after they were out of sight and so now Amu stood, feeling as though she'd been cast out to sea and left drifting uselessly in their wake, blinking, shaking her head uselessly in the quiet of the cabin. To her left, she heard Ikuto shift. When she turned, she saw him gathering up the discarded sea charts which Utau had left behind. His head was down, his shoulders squared. Amu just knew that he was bracing himself - preparing his pride for the onslaught that was soon to come from this fiery little woman before him. And Amu supposed that perhaps he was right to remain wary about her. Really, the only reason she had not already unleashed her wrath upon him was because she was still too bewildered to get her thoughts together.

But it was not long before the quiet stretched too far. Finally, apparently unable to stand it any longer, Ikuto dumped the useless charts on a nearby shelf and sighed aloud. "We'd better trust Utau for now." He said in a tone that left no room for compromise and Amu was so taken aback that she couldn't find the words to respond. His eyes were upon her now - she could _feel_ it. She could feel his gaze, intent, yet soft and cautious on the back of her neck and when she faced him she saw that there was a reluctance in his gaze. He was treading lightly, she guessed; tip-toeing around the uncomfortable silence, just waiting for her to explode; to shriek; to march over there and with all her might bellow at his stupidity, for surely even _he_ could understand that to follow such a call back to the country would be a rash, _reckless_ move beyond belief…

"What if it's a trap?"

Amu's voice was small and abrupt, but Ikuto heard it all the same. He regarded her with an unreadable expression as she muttered;

"What if it's like the last time..?" Amu turned to him, her voice but a breath in the empty cabin, her eyes wide and desperate as she wondered aloud; "Ikuto, we've done this all before. To venture ashore in search of Kazuomi's grandson was wild enough, but this…" she swallowed; "This is something I can't abide."

And when Amu met his gaze - when she truly stood to face him and locked upon those starry depths in a such a domineering grasp that he could not look away - Ikuto truly saw the ferocity of the blaze behind her golden stare and, despite himself, he felt himself falter. Hell hath no fury, it was said, and for a moment he wondered if he'd ever seen such wild outrage in a woman's eyes.

"Amu-"

" _This is something I cannot abide!"_ the princess snapped - a burst of wrath, a cry of passion, her vision blurring as she shook her pink head and hollered; " _You utterly, UTTERLY RECKLESS, FOOLISH, EXASPERATING MAN!"_ And, red in the face, she hollered; " _How can you be so BLIND? HOW can you risk yourself so thoughtlessly for him? Has he not damned you ENOUGH?"_

Amu's voice as it echoed off the empty cabin fell piercing upon Ikuto's ears. His heart clenched. A wash of guilt overcame him as he watched her eyes grow glassy, for he couldn't deny that her worries were probably well-deserved and, as it was, he could feel that very same trepidation coursing throughout his veins as he cast his eyes toward their destination - now marked clearly on the maps beside him… But it was not Amu's fear. It was not her terror. No, his fear was thrilling. His fear was tingling and heart-pumping and with every beat he felt the adrenaline wash like a roaring tide within his blood and so, though he understood her caution in every sense of the word… He knew he had already made up his mind. He knew his mind and he knew his desire just as he knew that, _somehow_ , the sea was swiftly moving him unto his proper course.

And so Ikuto knew that his will was to remain or else all would be for naught.

"Amu," Ikuto began, firm, yet gentle; patient and reassuring, yet strong and stable and before Amu had even had a chance to clear her head she found herself in a tight embrace, enveloped in a warm and unyielding hold and staring into depths of deepest blue. Subconsciously, her cheeks were growing pink - an unattractive, blotchy mix of thrill and fury and exhaustion - but Ikuto did not mention it. His hand was at her cheek, his fingers rough against her skin. He sighed.

"You know," he said slowly, as if he were carefully considering how to continue; "it's always flattering to know you care so much."

At this Amu growled lowly and tried quite uselessly to break free, but his grip was strong and suddenly his face grew serious. A shadow seemed to pass across his features - something almost regretful came to light in that expression and she knew then at least that he understood. It was as if he could just _see_ it. It was like visions and flashbacks were passing quick and vivid before his eyes until he could almost convince himself that he was really there - back in that unforgiving, freezing cell, leaning through the bars, gazing up at the moon and expecting it to be his last. It was as though he had delved headfirst into the depths of her mind and read her worries like an open book… But, then again, that was always the way around him. Ikuto just had a knack for it, she supposed. He had a gift - he could see her anxieties written bare across her face; he could tell when her heart was light and when it was low; he could sense her trepidation. It was as if he had a second sense that allowed him access to her innermost thought at any given time… And Amu could not deny that she felt some comfort in that fact. After all, she had spent her entire life hidden behind a royal façade. To bear her heart upon her sleeve for him - and _only_ him - was something of a grand, oh-so _exciting_ privilege.

But, at the same time, Ikuto had a knack for hiding his own heart beneath a mask of sorts. And so Amu was instantly gladdened to see the earnesty in his eyes as he came closer towards her, taking her hands between his, leaning down and gazing into frightened eyes until it seemed that it was just the two of them as they were - bare to no one but each other. And so, slowly, Ikuto whispered;

"I promise," Ikuto breathed, gently weaving their fingers together and revelling in the steady beat between their chests; "it won't be like the last time…"

A pause. A shallow sigh. Amu shook her head, but her voice was faltering, her breath unsteady as she mumbled;

"But I-I can't-"

Ikuto squeezed her hand oh-so slightly and at once she fell into silence. The cabin was immersed in quiet. A hush had overcome them. Outside, the waves were gradually growing stronger - as if the very sea itself was waking with the rising sun - and the two of them felt the ship as it slowly rocked beneath their feet, stood together until it appeared as though they were swaying to some silent tune that no other soul could hear or would ever hear, for the time they spent alone together was theirs and theirs alone.

There they stayed for some moments until, eventually, the sound of some sudden uproar from the deck reached them. Utau or Kukai must have revealed their plans to change course, Ikuto thought, for it sounded like a joyous sort of clamour. Cheering he heard and whistling and a rhythmic thudding that might have been the beat of an improvised drum. They were celebrating, so it appeared, and, quite reluctantly, Ikuto loosened his hold (if by just a margin) and allowed Amu a step back.

"We'll trust Utau for now." he said then and, surprisingly, Amu did little more than hum noncommittally, looking defeated. Ikuto frowned. She looked exhausted. "Get some sleep," Ikuto whispered, his thumb oh-so gently caressing the back of her hand. Softly, sweetly, he kissed her forehead. "It doesn't look to be far. We'll likely make landfall by tomorrow evening."

Gold flickered back to blue, instantly more alert, but Amu said nothing. Unconvinced that her worries were reassured, but satisfied with her lack of argument, Ikuto watched with content as she slowly nodded.

"Sure… I guess…" Amu murmured. She averted her gaze to the floor and shook her pink head. "If you say so."

And, before Ikuto could add any more, she slipped her hands from his and turned away. She could not describe the warring within her heart at that moment, for it was the most melancholy, conflicting kind of unease she had ever felt, yet somehow she had, for the moment, been lulled - sent spiralling into a dreamlike sort of compliance brought on by fatigue and defeat and that undeniable, enticing charm that accompanied his every touch, that made her pulse race wildly with every single, simple kiss...

"Sweet dreams, Your Highness."

Ikuto's voice was faint and far away by the time she reached the door, but she heard it all the same.

And, her heart skipping a delightful beat, she bit back an unexpected grin.

"Good day, ruffian."

Amu heard him chuckle as she closed the door behind her and, when she found herself faced with the sight of the empty corridor, she wasn't even surprised to feel herself still smiling. She leant back against the door for a moment or so, breathing deeply, shaking her head and mumbling unintelligibly beneath her breath and trying not to laugh aloud because, in her tired state, she had absolutely _no_ idea how he had managed to cast upon her such a spell of false security…

And then she heard a laugh - a little, girlish giggle resounding from the corner just ahead. Amu almost jumped out of her skin. The woman laughed all the louder.

"Good morning." Souko said, trying with all her might to keep her voice steady as she watched the princess near-hyperventilate in front of her. "I hope I didn't scare you _too_ much," she tittered, moving away from the shadow of her door. Her smile looked exceptionally wide against the thin frame of her face, her cheeks hollow and her skin slack, but her eyes were as bright as little tealights and her cheeks had colour for the first time in days as she stepped into the light. "I heard voices," she said lightly, glancing back only briefly at the Captain's door. "Hard at work?"

Having calmed and scolded herself by now for her humiliating skittishness, Amu couldn't help the stammer that left her lips, though, for the life of her, she did not know why. "O-Oh… Y-Yes, you could say…" And she trailed off pathetically, suddenly feeling very meek and childish, shrinking back into the dim light of the corridor. Her pulse had begun to quicken, her mind racing as it suddenly occurred to her... How much should she think to say? Amu wasn't sure how much Ikuto liked to tell his mother about their latest task, nor how much it would be wise to bring up that man who had made such a living hell out of the Tsukiyomi family's very existence. This woman before her was fragile - she was alive and walking and speaking again, yes, but undeniably flimsy and frail inside. Even here in the slowly gathering light there could be seen the shadows of many marking across her face - faint, yet furiously bold and brazen against the line of her cheek; down the side of her jaw; beneath the pale skin of her collarbone…

In Amu's head, she heard this woman weep woefully out into the night and still she shivered. This ship may have been cleansed, but always it would harbour spirits - remnants; shadows of the past and echoes of it's most unbearable torment.

And so Amu just smiled as politely as she could manage and tried not to let her voice betray her as she nodded quietly. "Yes. It's been a long night." she said. And then, before anything more could be added, she decided to swiftly change the conversation. "Are you alright?" Amu asked. "I-I really should be going to fetch some breakfast before I retire... Would you like to come with me?"

The woman almost looked surprised at this request. Souko chuckled lightly. "Oh no, dear," she sighed, some shadow of a smile beginning to tug at the corners of her lips. "I really couldn't. I just wanted to see the daylight." And she inched closer to the doors at the end of the corridor where the newly-risen run sent intricate ripples across the floor, filtering through the pane of glass and pooling as freshly melted gold beneath their feet, swirling gently as a lazy sandstorm in some far-off corner of the east. Amu watched it swish and sway intrinsically - _hypnotically_ \- drawing her in as one in a deep enchantment until-

"It is pleasant to see such sunshine." Souko whispered, her fingers trailing delicately across the glass. "Even if I am only bold enough to watch it behind this pitiful screen."

Instantly Amu felt hit by an enormous sympathy - a pang of remorse striking hard and deep within her chest until she felt almost suffocated, at a loss for words as she looked upon this faded image of a woman fallen from glory. And fallen indeed Souko had. In fact, it seemed as though no day would pass - no sun would rise - without shining light on those scars she had for so long hoped to heal and, even as she stood content in the warmth of the day, the former heiress saw them paint a terrible picture across the pale canvas of her skin. Often she would sit beside the window of her cabin and, though the light fell on her weary form, it always looked as though some ray of sun would pass her by - would manage to pass straight through her figure and fall unto the deck beneath - for she was, for all her strength and unrelenting bravery, a woman marred beyond repair; beautiful, yet opaque; forever a faded flicker of what might once have been.

In that way, Amu thought that sometimes the resemblance between herself and Ikuto was too striking to behold. But she could not dwell on it. She did not _wish_ to dwell upon it. It was almost a relief to hear the woman's voice again, pulling her from her murky thoughts. Before her, Souko was smiling fondly.

"But still…" the older woman breathed. Her eyes fell closed as if in bliss - so tranquil and undisturbed that Amu could have smiled back, for that woman's smile was the warmest sight she had ever seen. "It is nice…"

But then, unexpectedly, the woman stopped. Souko tensed. A chill swept over Amu's spine.

"It is nice… When such dark cloud still gathers on our horizon..."

And, slowly, Amu frowned. Something unpleasant - full of dread - stirred in the pit of her stomach.

"'Dark cloud'..?"

Souko nodded by just a fraction. Something overcame her then - something unsettling; something cold and full of apprehension and Amu saw that her skin was white and her eyes were dark, staring out beyond the window and across the water as though pulled by something she could not see, lurking out of sight, drifting beyond the horizon.

"Yes... " Souko breathed. "For I hold a foreboding in my heart, Your Highness… And all around I fear the darkness still creeps in. I fear the gathering of the storm and the hiss of the sea and somewhere far beyond our sights I fear that there may be one who listens still…"

Silence fell swiftly after that. Souko did not move. She did not speak and Amu did not leave to visit the deck after her meeting with Ikuto's mother. Instead she crept away, sneaking back into the comfort of her own small cabin, and there she lay exhausted, yet sleep never found her, for once again she felt the fear return again - felt chill claw through her veins; the felt the apprehension grip at her chest; felt that shadow creep across her own restless heart… And, even though she in her mind still failed to understand, it was true that the waves were rising; that the sky was darkening; that far away on some uncharted tide where the sun and the moon were bound to different tides there lay in wait a creature beyond comparison - a true behemoth of the deep; a ghostly galleon that prowled the sea and fed on the weak and in it's lengthy life had left countless souls behind to founder in the darkest depths, upturned and thrown from the waters in a blast of smoke and powder, rained down in showers of lead and iron and fire. And so there that ship rocked incessantly upon stormy tides as darkness fell across the world. Dark were the waves and black was the night and in the heart of this sordid ship the Captain paced, his breath a hiss and his boots a-shaking upon the planks of his cabin. He was pacing - always pacing - and always his crew watched with a dreadful caution; a disquiet that they could never shake, for always they lived in fear of their Captain's wrath, flinching as he wheezed;

" _Ichinomiya."_

His voice was as dreadful as the storm outside; wavering dangerously as the galleon upon the waves and, even as he spoke, the ocean was incessant - battering their hull; spitting at their sails; foaming across the slippery decks.

"He has been sent his doom…" The Captain growled and all about the shady cabin the crew shivered as one. "We _must_ pursue him…"

' _Thud, thud, thud!'_ went his boots on the cabin floor. ' _Thud, thud, thud!'_ and a ' _KA-CHANG!'_ as, quick as a flash, he unearthed his sword - the sleek steel of his cutlass shining as a streak of lightning to rent the desolate cloud;

" _The Shining Black..!"_ the Captain spat; "She _survived_ that day and even now she sails, slipping into the sea fog, evading our very _eyes..!"_

And truly it did seem as though that ship was but a mist about the waves - a fleeting shadow in the fog, for every time they neared the flighty craft she vanished before their eyes; as ethereal as a wandering spirit; as brief as a shooting star.

But the Captain did not care.

The Captain could not allow it.

But, most of all, the Captain did not _understand_ , for he had heard tall tales of the ruckus caused by the docks that day near-five months passed and, though he had heard it - though he had listened to those whispers, turning ever toward those fragments of rumour that drifted along the breeze; though he had been baffled by it; though he had almost even _admired_ it - he just for the life of him could not comprehend Kazuomi's head. He must have been a madman. He must have been getting senile. He had not, after all these nights of lost sleep, come to any reasonable conclusion as to exactly _why_ that man might have wanted to cause such a scene at Seiyo that day. He had heard that some of his men had been put on trial, but had paid it no heed. His men were not important.

"Per'aps he grew tired o' haulin' about the boy…" the Captain thought idly to himself then, though he knew in truth that it was of no matter. Kazuomi's boy was always worthless, he thought - barely worth his glance - always silent and sombre as a shadow, living in the grey...

But it didn't matter.

All that mattered was the ship - the Shining Black and all its secrets.

And so, amidst the storm - amidst the gathering wind and the wild waves and the almighty, ungodly crack of the furious thunder outside - the Captain growled.

"I'll be seein' you, Ichinomiya…"

And even amidst the gale his voice could still be heard - a hissing, spitting breath as the stormy sea itself;

" _I'll be seein' you…"_

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : Wow, guess what? _I'm not dead!_

Well, not physically anyway, but I'm so sorry for the wait! I've never left it this long! I hope this makes up for it. I was so stuck for weeks, but a sudden burst of inspiration struck the other day and I ended up spending a three hour long train ride furiously rewriting the entire chapter. I'm so much happier with this version. It's not perfect (blame the train for that one), but it's done and I'll take it. Conquering writer's block is the best thing in existence I swear.

On the plus side though, I'm now officially on winter break for almost four weeks during which I can write to my heart's content, so expect the next update much quicker.

Thank you to those who reviewed my last chapter! I felt a lot better about it after reading your comments. They make my day every time~

Until the next chapter~


	5. Chapter Five

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

By the time they had docked beside the coastal town the rain had become relentless. Fierce and furious did the heavens open - as though the wrath of some unnamed deity had been released all at once, rushing down upon them as a sudden flood and, there aboard the deck of the Shining Black, it did look to them as though the world had been submerged beneath the sea. Naught could be seen to the naked eye save the shimmer of rain and the flash of lightning in the dreary distance. With a spyglass was no better. Currently, Ikuto scowled, snapping the brass device shut in his hands and shaking away the steady drips falling from the brim of his hat. He might as well have been staring straight into the ocean, for all was merging now - the shadows beneath them obscuring the line between the land and the sea.

Overwhelmed by the tempest, the crew shivered. The rain fell as ice upon their skin. Their teeth were chattering, their lips blue and their fingers purple and, honestly, Ikuto was right behind them. They were far too used to the constant warmth of the tropics - to the comforting caress of the sun and the hiss of the surf and the haze of the heat as it rose from the golden sands of some forgotten, faraway isle - and so, as they stood here in the midst of winter with not even a candle to warm their cheeks they were thoroughly chilled to the bone. It would not do to stay here longer than necessary. Ikuto was practically chomping at the bit to descend upon whoever had sent them that mysterious summons in the first place - desperate to swoop down from the darkness of this shadowed frigate and with the shine of his sword ignite the first flicker of fear in this traitor's eyes until they were babbling; spilling all of his stepfather's secrets; letting them fall to their knees and watching the words flow from their mouth as the dismal downpour descended upon the world that night…

Yes, Ikuto thought, they would be far away from this place and it's disagreeable climate ere daybreak fell upon them. Swift they would descend and swift they would flee and yet…

And yet that fact was still not enough to ease the restlessness within his gut. It was not enough to quell the warring in his heart. No, still there lay a stain even over Ikuto's eager nature and, as he watched Amu emerge from the companionway, tucking the shine of his Dumpty Key beneath her cloak and looking upon the town with a fierce sort of determination engraved upon her face, he felt a terrible sense of dread pool deep within his stomach. Quite freely Ikuto would admit that he was no more willing to let Amu accompany him into town that night than he had been in letting her tail behind them to Hikaru Ichinomiya's manion and, quite truly, this was to be an even greater gamble than any they had taken before. This was no walk through some deserted hamlet under cover of fog, Ikuto reminded himself as he looked through the shimmering veil of rainfall all around, grey and glowing in the light of distant buildings. No, this was the closest he could get to walking straight back into the lion's den - as damned near as he could get to returning straight back to that claustrophobic little cell where he had very nearly come to terms with his own mortality, for this place was almost as densely populated and, he would guess, just as 'anti-buccan' as any could ever be, having faced the full force of Kazuomi's wrath but once before themselves.

But, at the very least, the majority of residents on this dismal night were tucked up safely in bed, away from the rain, cowering in their homes from the fury of the thunder and the flash of lightning up above. This rain was a blessing. It would mask their presence. It would distort their features and wash away their footprints. It would conceal their hearts and shadow them in obscurity, letting them fade into the background, into nothingness as the rumours said, as fickle and faded as the legendary ship they sailed… But that still didn't mean that the Captain was any more enthusiastic about having 'Her Highness' join them on their little venture.

Back on the deck of the ship, Ikuto narrowed his eyes as he watched the former princess fumble about with a rusty dagger, tucking it awkwardly into it's leather hold, her fingers slick and clumsy about it's rain-drenched hilt. He slipped it easily from her grasp and sheathed it correctly.

"One day," he almost growled, though he immediately felt guilty for it; "this won't go so smoothly. And you will regret it."

There was a moment of silence, but if Amu was in any way perturbed by his tone, she didn't show it. Amu blinked once or twice before taking back her pathetic little weapon and stuffing it in the halter beneath her cloak. "Oh, _please,"_ she countered and she placed her hands firmly on her hips, giving him a glower that could rival Utau's. "I'm not about to let you disappear off into the darkness without me! Not after the absolute _disaster_ you made of it last time!"

In the background, someone sniggered. All around them the crew were holding their breaths, covering their mouths with dirty hands and trying their best not to burst out into laughter at the way their Captain twitched beneath her fiery gaze. ' _Hell hath no fury'_ , they whispered amongst themselves, their composure all but shattered as Ikuto's stunned silence drew on. Honestly, he tried to find a response so cutting as to be fit of such a remark, but (curse it!) he found none. Behind him his men were still biting their tongues and exchanging such knowing glances it that made Amu's chest swell up with pride, for she knew that, with that, this argument was already hers to be won.

Ikuto cast a glance at his crew as if daring any to speak. Or perhaps he was looking for backup - he couldn't tell himself - but it didn't matter. With not a single suitable response, he knew he'd utterly lost. Besides, Amu had already made it quite clear that so long as Kazuomi still held onto the Humpty Lock, any of Ikuto's business in tracking him down was hers as well. He couldn't say he blamed her (not to mention that her sitting idly by would have defeated the point in her so recklessly running away into the blue in the first place), but, whilst it almost made sense for _her_ to follow him into this peril, that didn't quite explain…

"That reminds me," Ikuto whirled around, overcome by déjà-vu; "what the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Kukai, who had been busy offering Amu a selection of more finely-kept blades whilst the Captain was still searching for a witty comeback, just shrugged and, after a minute or so of blank looks, clicked his tongue casually. "I'm the bodyguard?" he said uncertainly. By the look on Ikuto's face, it clearly didn't wash. Kukai sighed. "Look, Cap'n, why don't ya just _trust_ me, man? I was the one who single-handedly busted ya outta that prison coach that time - and don't you ever forget it!"

Truthfully, Ikuto had no intention of ever forgetting it, for it was perhaps one of the brightest moments of his admittedly bleak life, but that didn't mean he was any more enthusiastic about more people following him than necessary. "Kukai, you couldn't guard a secret." he muttered, but, again, outnumbered and outwitted, he shook his head. "Whatever…" he conceded, more to himself than to anyone else. "We won't be long…"

He'd meant it to sound firm, yet it came out more like a defeat. Kukai clapped him on the back and laughed jovially; "Ya know it makes sense, Cap'n!" He chimed and he tipped his hat, ignoring the faint trickle of water that leapt from the pinch of his tricorn. He turned to one of the men beside him. "Cap'n figures we'll be back within the next hour or two, alright, lads? We'll try an' hurry it up. Ain't no good gettin' caught in this downpour!"

"This downpour will be the least of our worries," uttered a grim and tentative voice behind them. Ikuto and Kukai turned and were met with a flash of lilac as serene and sublime as the eve after sunset.

Utau was wrapping her travelling cloak around herself, fastening the clasp beneath her chin and glancing warily out over the bulwark - towards the watery lights and shimmering roads and the hazy spires intermingling with the murky cloud above. It was as though they were stood on the borderline of another world, she thought. It was as if they were gazing upon some other realm through a foggy screen; detached; their heads and hearts unclear so long as they remained adrift, cruising the confines of uncharted seas untouched by civil folk and Ikuto and Utau and everyone else then present suddenly felt wracked with trepidation, for to cross that line and walk once more among honest men was a most foolhardy stunt if they had ever seen one.

But their minds were set. Their ship was docked. Their courage was fuelling the fire in their blood. In the background, the men were handing out armaments and whispering words of encouragement as the little group made towards the gangway. Utau took a single pistol and stowed it beneath her cloak before disappearing with the princess and disembarking onto the quay. Ikuto was presented with a cutlass so finely polished that it looked almost newly hewn. He sheathed it in his belt with an appreciative mutter of thanks and rolled his eyes as he watched Kukai fiddling awkwardly with an unprimed pistol.

Ikuto smirked. "Your powder's wet, _bodyguard."_

The pirate cursed in a dialect Ikuto didn't recognise and his pistol hit the floor with a heavy ' _thunk!'_. Ikuto chuckled lowly and shook his head. He tossed him a spare gun from his holster and the two were off, slipping silently onto the deserted dockside and, meeting the ladies in the shadow of a nearby toll house, they vanished into the gloom. The thunder had begun to clap with increasing fury as they dashed with soggy steps into the relative shelter of a nearby alleyway. It was darker in here, yet fairly drier, though the wind whistled with a chill through the narrow space and the booming up ahead echoed between the walls, resounding ten times over in their ears. Amu jumped violently as one such tremor fell from the heavens. Ikuto would not have noticed had she not accidentally grasped the back of his cloak for support. Instantly his heart skipped a beat.

' _Thunder, huh?'_ he thought to himself curiously and, as a furious bolt of lightning struck somewhere nearby, he caught a flash of her pale face in the flickering light. Beneath a mess of pastel pink he saw her eyes were wide and frightened - as startled as a doe faced down by dogs, yet still as glorious as candlelight on darkened shores. Seeing that they were a little behind their companions (for Utau was tearing ahead like the navy was right behind her and Kukai was busy trying to keep up if only to dry out his powder in good time), Ikuto subtly found the small of her back and drew her closer to him. He felt her inhale sharply as her side made contact with his. He smirked.

"Poor little _Amu,"_ the Captain drawled, his lips twitching. Amu shivered. "Does Her Highness desire a hand to hold?" he teased, leaning down, his lips near flush against her cheek. "After all, a storm is a _frightful_ thing… But rest assured, your _Captain_ is at your service…"

Ikuto bit back a grin at the way her cheeks so instinctively grew pink. He tried not to laugh - tried not to let his expression break. His hand found hers and oh-so-sneakily he wound his fingers through her own.

But she did not respond. Ikuto's light tone faltered for the briefest second. "You know," he added, casting their companions a fleeting glance before leaning back to whisper in her ear; "they're not paying attention."

But still there was nothing and yet, though his tone dripped heavy with amusement - though his eyes were alight and his tone so teasing - Amu's expression did not change. There was no eye-roll, no half-hearted huff. Amu just glanced back at him, her face grave, and shook her head before turning away and glancing warily around at the little alleyway. Releasing herself from his grasp, she hugged her cloak closer to her body, peering round corners and shying away from little alcoves and suddenly Ikuto thought he understood. His stomach dropped. Something uneasy stirred in his gut - something that had long lain untouched within his memory, for, though he'd tried, he had not had the courage to recall it.

And he realised that it was not the thunder that disturbed her. No, not the thunder... And suddenly, whatever Amu had seen that spooked her so, Ikuto saw too.

In his head, flames were flickering hauntingly across the walls. Ringing in his ears were the shouts and jeers and chants of many men. At the end of the alley he thought he could see shadows - figures, tall and grim and black as the night, wielding torches, prowling the streets. They were concealed in every corner; they followed his every move; every so often Ikuto would catch a fleeting glimpse of some dark spectre in the corner of his eye and, now that he was aware of them - of those devils that still ran amok in his darkest dreams - he knew Amu's fear. This maze of streets had sparked a memory - yet another memory that Ikuto wished he could forget.

But, though the two of them (nor any other man aboard the Shining Black) would ever forget that night - that unbelievable, unexpected eve their former Captain had fled - Ikuto had to remind himself that this was not the same place. These were not the same streets; not the same alleyways; there were no townsfolk lurking amongst the gloom and the rain, tearing along the roads with their torches ablaze and their fangs bared. That terrible ordeal was far behind them… Yet it was with great difficulty that Ikuto forced the unwelcome déjà-vu aside and ushered Amu past the gaping mouth of a nearby walkway.

"Deserted," was all he said. In fact, he said it so quietly that Amu couldn't decide whether or not he'd been talking to himself, but there was an edge to his voice - a firm, reassuring sort of tone - that almost made her smile, for it was enough to calm her frantic nerves. She inched away from his hold. They continued in silence.

All four members of the little group were grateful that in that time they saw not a soul. Street after street and alley after empty alley lay bare and barren before them, undisturbed save for the incessant ' _pitter-patter!'_ of the rain and the occasional rumble of thunder. The cobblestones were glistening in the soft light; puddles glowing gold under streetlamps; and with every step their heavy bootsteps were muffled by the deluge until they became but silvery, fleeting figures in the mist, greyed out by the rain. They could have been but the breath of the breeze as they slipped down yet another darkened backstreet and they had gone for perhaps a further mile in this way before Utau stopped abruptly up ahead, squinting through the dim light at the surrounding buildings. She turned full on the spot, seemingly scrutinising every brick, before diving into a nearby alcove. There, almost obscured by the darkness, was a heavy, wooden door. Utau gestured for them to come forwards.

"Come on," she said. "We're here."

Overheard, a brief flash of lightning lit up her companions dumbfounded expressions. They were peering curiously up at the building before them. Certainly it stood apart from the uniform dwellings all around. It was old - older than most. It was probably one of the more original structures in town, but it was run-down, slumped sluggishly under the weight of its own years and, even in the dark, they could see that it's plaster was all but gone; it's windows were either boarded or broken; up there, way beyond their heads, it's chimneystack was half-crumbled, beaten and battered by the ongoing torrent. That explained the state of the alleyway, Ikuto thought. All about them were broken bits of stone and masonry and, as he glanced up, squinting through the icy rain, he thought that it was perhaps an inn or tavern. Lights were out on the floors above, but through the single pane of glass in the doorway he could see that a single orange glow was flickering somewhere deep inside. He looked at his sister sceptically.

"Are you sure this is the place?"

Utau didn't answer. For a moment, Ikuto thought that the doubt in his voice had been drowned by the fall of the rain, for his sister didn't so much as glance back at any of them until Kukai tapped her on the shoulder; "It says it's _closed!"_ He said. And he pointed to the sign hanging behind the window, swinging loosely on the other side of the glass.

But Utau just shot him the trademark Tsukiyomi smirk and nodded. "Perfect."

Ignoring her cohorts, Utau strode forwards and rapped on the door. Then on the glass. The sign jumped dangerously on its tether in the window and danced awkwardly before their faces, but no one replied. A heavy silence stretched between them. The four pirates stood there, soaked through, straining their ears for any hint of movement inside; squinting in an effort to descry any shadow; any movement; any sign! Amu was holding her breath. Kukai pressed his nose to the glass like a hound, his breath fogging up the glass, wiping back the grime and grit furiously to peer inside. Ikuto was creeping forwards, unaware of himself, unknowingly tensing as though prepared to pounce…

And, just when they thought that they could wait no longer, they saw it. The glow inside flickered. The candlelight danced in the dark. Instinctively they stuck together. Ikuto's hand flew to the hilt of his sword, dreading the worst, for this was after all the former cohort of a truly terrible man…

Then, quick as a flash, they caught sight of a shadow in the doorway.

But what greeted them was unlike anything they'd expected.

And so they stood, dumbfounded and drenched, as out from the darkness rang the sweetest, brightest, most gleeful voice they had ever heard;

" _UTAUUU-!"_

~.~.~

Ikuto could not comprehend it. Honestly, neither he nor Amu nor even _Kukai_ (who was _undoubtedly_ the most easily swayed of the bunch) could quite believe their eyes. One moment he had been creeping through a haunting web of deserted streets - sneaking through the shadows; slinking down alleys like skittish cat - absolutely and quite equally riled _and_ terrified to be finally making progress; to be chasing the ghost of his torment; to at _last_ come face to face with whom he could only suppose was a ruthless, treacherous, _slimy_ ex-conspirator of his stepfather's and the next…

The next he was sat in a homely little drinking hall, too on edge to settle into his plush-backed chair which was embroidered with faded swallows and quaint, oriental blossoms, whilst the most welcoming fire in existence roared steadily in the open hearth beside him - a single, blessed source of light and heat after the bitter storm outside. Embers cracked and flickered, reflected in the light of his eyes. He might have sighed in relief had be not been so struck dumb.

In fact, Utau's crewmates were still stricken into silence, visibly gaping as they watched their… Their ' _host'_ , they supposed, throw her arms around the blonde, giggling and chattering and exchanging pleasantries as though she hadn't just picked up four wanted criminals on her back doorstep.

A young girl she was - hardly the traitor the pirates had pictured upon receiving that summons only days ago. Short in stature, rosy-cheeked and with hair the colour of finest bronze, she was barely of age to drink in public (an odd fact, considering that she seemed to know the back of the bar like the back of her hand) - and what a young age that was in these parts, Ikuto thought to himself, still in awe and utterly perplexed as he watched the way his sister stood there and just _took_ this unnecessary show of affection. She barely said a word - barely blinked! She didn't protest; didn't huff. She barely allowed anyone to so much as shake her hand and yet now Ikuto watched in horror as his sister merely grimaced through embrace after bone-crushing embrace. She waited for the child to step away before rolling her eyes;

"Come on, Yaya," Utau began, though there was a playful lilt to her tone and her lips were twitching fondly; "What, you want us to freeze to death? Move over and pour us some fire for the road."

The girl laughed aloud - a bubbly, summery sort of sound that seemed to pierce through every shadow; seemed to lighten every darkened corner - and pouted; "Aw, _Utauu-!"_ the girl whined. "So mean…" she said, but begrudgingly she stepped aside and pulled out a chair for her, placing it across from Ikuto's beside the fire. Utau took it gratefully, but Kukai and Amu were still lingering beside the door, hesitant, sharing puzzled looks and marvelling at the scene before them. The girl noticed almost immediately. She smiled brightly and gestured to the remaining seats by the hearth.

"Well, don't dally!" the girl exclaimed, her face glowing as bright as her eyes in the light of the flames. "Make yourselves at home! Hand Yaya ya cloaks and she'll have 'em dry! No good leavin' 'em wet an' gettin' a chill. Come on, sit down, sit _down!_ "

Somewhat amused by their torn expressions, Ikuto watched carefully. Eventually Kukai grew bold enough to tip-toe towards his seat, head down, not _daring_ to refuse nor question the commands of such a persistent young woman. Though, really, it wasn't hard for him to resist. There was a warmth spilling forth from the fire that was so enticing; so welcoming; just _beckoning_ them into the heart of that little old tavern after enduring such a bitter winter's chill. And in fact, their host was _so_ forcefully hospitable that none could find it in themselves to refuse her. She weaved through the tables and chairs of the empty drink hall and offered out steaming, cracked mugs of what smelled like an earthy kind of tea. When Ikuto looked back up at her she was shoving a beverage towards him with one hand and tearing off his sodden cloak in the other. As soon as Ikuto compiled, the young girl swooped over to his sister, babbling away as she hopped to each in turn.

"Well, Yaya knows ya'll would've preferred a bit of fire for a night as this, but the ol' landlord won't be best pleased if all his finest rum's gone in the mornin'. Mighty relieved ya'll made it here, though!" she said brightly, gathering any wet, discarded garments over her arm. "Yaya heard what happened with the old Cap'n! Blessin' that he's gone! Horror that he's still alive, mind you!" And, with this, she jumped to Kukai who leapt about a foot in the air as she leaned in and flashed him an inappropriately excitable grin as she blurted; "Ya think he's lost his _marbles?"_

Red in the face and still juggling with his scalding mug of tea, Kukai could only stammer. "U-Uuh, w-well, I-"

But she was off again, snatching his cloak in her grasp and bundling it into her arms; " _Still!_ He can't have much more to lose than that! Yaya would be willin' to wager her pay he didn't up an' abandon ship so likely. His pride and joy were the ol' Shinin' Black. An' a beauty she is, too! On'y seen her the once, mind you. Still…" she sighed, shaking her head and inching over to Amu who, up until this point, had been hovering awkwardly beside the bar, casting curious eyes over the empty room and idly running her finger over the rim of her mug in thought. Over and over and over she went on, restless, handing out her wet cloak to the girl without question, lost too deep in thought to pay her any heed…

But then the babbling ceased. The young girl stopped and, when Amu at last drew herself back to the scene before her, she felt her skin bristle.

Having sat by so idly, melting into the background beneath the relentless stream of chatter, carried away in confusion as they listened to the girl's delightful tone… It was thoroughly unsettling for her to fall so quiet. Silence had fallen like a weight upon the room. Amu's fellow crewmates were peering over curiously, their quietude broken only by the subtle spitting of the fire, but that was not what unnerved her. What unnerved her was that the young girl's eyes were as wide as saucers - shining and glittering in the dim light like brass plates. Her cheeks were rosy; her mouth was agape; she looked to Amu as one in awe or, at the very least, like a child on Christmas morning - all big-eyed and bushy-tailed and young. So, _so_ young…

The quiet, however, didn't last long. The girl jumped once on the spot, clapping her hands together in pure excitement. " _Heavens ABOVE!"_ she squealed - so deafeningly shrill that, in the background, Kukai leapt out of his skin and winced, clapping his hands over his poor, abused ears - but Amu could do little more than stammer dumbly as this Yaya girl leant forwards, abandoning her stash of cloaks over the back of a chair, and cried aloud;

"Her _Highness!"_ she exclaimed, pink in the face, her eyes agleam; " _Her Highness,_ my _goodness!_ " And she curtseyed, brief but low, before throwing in a quick bow for good measure. "Princess Amu Hinamori! In _this_ tavern of ours! Well I _never_! Your Highness, please, you must come sit! Come over here an' dry! That's it - Yaya will fetch more tea. Yaya is so _honoured_ tonight, truly so! The Cap'n _an'_ Her Royal Highness!"

"A-Ah, well, now-" Amu began to stutter uselessly as the girl whisked her across the room and set her forcibly down in an armchair square in front of the hearth. "I-I don't- I don't know about that- Y- _Yaya_ , was it?"

At this, Yaya jumped on the spot, apparently indescribably flattered that the princess had so much as uttered her name. "T-That's right!" she nodded fiercely, blushing madly, and snatched up the kettle hanging above the fire. "Yaya is so honoured, miss! Yaya could not _believe_ Her Highness-"

Amu smiled weakly. She set down the tea awkwardly on the arm of her chair and opened her mouth to respond when-

" _Do you have it?"_

Amu frowned. Yaya's blush was gone now, but her eyes were still sparkling even here as she stood with her back to the fire, her voice suddenly hushed, low and conspiratorial as if the very walls themselves might have ears - as though something truly sinister might lurk in the shadows all about them. 'Her Highness' shook off that uneasy thought as quickly as it came, for she was already spooked enough by her little trip through the lookalike maze, and uttered uneasily;

"W-What..?"

Yaya's eyes darted for the briefest of seconds to the hollow of skin beneath her neck - to the line of her sullied bodice and the swell of her chest. "That… The…"

"The Humpty Lock?" Utau threw in breezily. At the mere mention of it's name, Yaya let out a minute squeak and nodded so urgently that it was a wonder she didn't injure herself, but, as soon as she understood, Amu's heart sank. She looked down shamefully at the scruffy floorboards beneath her feet. A shadow fell upon her face. In her mind, she still saw that glitter of gold and the shine of crystal - pure and polished; as the moon shines upon the calm waters of a subdued sea; as the stars and the heavenly glow of that glorious sky beneath which she and Ikuto had stood and watched the night together… And yet now… Now Amu wondered if it could shine at all, locked tight in the grasp of bloodstained hands, a world away and God knows where.

Faintly, Amu let out the driest of laughs. "Has it's legend really spread so far?"

Yaya, it seemed, was utterly deaf to the defeat in her voice. "But of _course!"_ she exclaimed, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Luck and fortune and prosperity beyond desire! Of _course! Of course_ , Your Royal Highness! Why, when Yaya was a young'n - when Yaya first settled down here in this little town here - the ol' jeweller down by Wharf Street used to sell us kiddies li'l copper lookalikes for two pennies a piece - if we could get 'em…" And then she paused - suddenly hesitant. A warm, soft glow overcame her expression. "Yaya's mother used to tell her the stories when she was but a little one. Yaya used to listen to ma's stories of old an' stay awake dreamin' about the pirate lord an' the ancient king an' the secrets hidden away behind the face of that golden Lock… Yaya used to fantasize about that Humpty Lock of yours, Your Highness. Yaya has grown up with it in her mind's eye, she has. Thinks it's amazing - to be passed down through so many heiresses after all this time…"

And, by this time, the girl's eyes were so bright and sparkling that Amu's chest felt rent as by some heavy blow, for she recognised that look of awe. She recognised that expression of wonder. She remembered sitting at her mother's feet and sharing that same childish amazement as wondrous tales ran wild within her head - tall tales and folk tales and scary tales and every myth and legend besides…

But to think that her own Humpty Lock was as romantic to some as any one of her mother's tales to her was something else - something that she wasn't prepared to hear. If Amu was really in a fairy story, she thought, then why had her mother's locket been taken from her so easily?

Feeling something uncomfortable stir within her chest, Amu swallowed thickly. "I-It is just a trinket." she said, though albeit with great difficulty. Across the room she saw Ikuto's eyes narrow in concern, but she ignored him. She faced the young girl. "It's crystal and gold and nothing more." she said. "Hardly the stuff of legend."

But, if Yaya was perturbed by this, she did not show it. In the pause that followed, the girl just smiled. She shook her head. "No. Perhaps not…" Yaya said softly. "Perhaps there isn't any power left in that ol' Lock o' yours, Your Highness… But don't make it any less the stuff 'o legend. Nor you, miss."

Amu raised an eyebrow. "Nor I?"

Yaya's smile grew wider. Wordlessly, the girl straightened and beckoned Amu to stand. Wordless and clueless, she did. Yaya brought her to the hearth - stood right before the blazing fire mere feet away - and gestured up toward the chimney breast. There, slightly burnt and browned at the edges, hung a tapestry. It was not much. Merely an old, faded depiction of some harvest scene, lined with cheap, golden lookalike trim and drawn in the style of the local land. Amu did not see anything particularly special about it, but Yaya just laughed, shook her head, and grabbed a corner.

"Pardon me, Your Highness, but I think you'll find far more worth in your own legends if you on'y look to find 'em."

And, with a flick of the wrist, Yaya pulled the tapestry clean from the wall, sending years worth of dust and dirt and chimney plaster showering down as a rain upon her guests, crackling and spitting in the firepit beneath them. But, when all had settled - when the dust had cleared and the tapestry tapestry fell fluttering to the floor, Amu could only stare in awe, for she all of a sudden found herself staring into golden eyes. Honey golden eyes. Honey gold against pale skin and crimson lips and the same feathery, pastel hair of softest pink that fell about her shoulders even now as she stood, gazing up at her own face, at a loss for words.

Above the fireplace hung a portrait - _Amu's_ portrait. She heard Kukai let out an appreciative hum at the fine depiction, for it really was an amazing likeness. Utau looked largely unfazed, but Ikuto rose from his chair and stepped back to cast his eyes over the princess in all her royal finery. The expression on his face was so subtly awestruck that she almost blushed.

She remembered having this very painting commissioned, now that she thought about it. It couldn't have been long ago - perhaps a couple of years at the most - but she remembered the long hours and the kind artist and the way her parents had beamed and clapped as they had it hung in the royal gallery of the palace, set along a line of past rulers of the empire, wholly unaware that one day they would have to take it down and seal her fate and send her across the sea to submit to another's kingdom. So this painting could not have been genuine, Amu guessed, and yet even as a copy the detail was still exquisite. Her dress was magnificent - a flowing ball gown spun from silk and lace and adorned with golden embroidery about her bodice, stark against deep crimson. Delicately fell blush-coloured locks about her face, springing free from a high bun secured by diamond-topped pins...

But Amu saw - most magnificent of all - that splash of gold about her neck, so familiar; so heart-wrenching. It's lustre was like no other jewel about her person. It's catch of the light leapt from the canvas as though she were looking upon the real thing rather than paste and pigment, hanging in a darkened tavern atop a crumbling mantlepiece.

Amu's heart lurched horribly as the Humpty Lock and it's many crystals taunted her just as it had done so many times in her dreams and, suddenly feeling very small and drab in comparison, Amu shied away. "I don't understand." she murmured, slinking in what felt to be the shadow of her former glory. "It's just a painting. I've sat for hundreds of them."

Yaya opened her mouth to speak, but Ikuto was faster. He shook his head. "The seal on the summons…" his voice sounded faint and frail from disuse as he stared up at the portrait, having been almost entirely stunned to silence since setting foot in this little place. He fumbled about in the pockets for a moment or two and when he rejoined them he was unravelling a familiar scroll of parchment in his hands. He held it up to the light and then at the painting, looking struck by recognition. "Is it a royal seal?"

Only then did Amu recall it - the image of the maiden in the billowing dress, stuck fast in the waxy seal attached to Yaya's message. She saw it shining faintly in the firelight as Ikuto scrutinised the similarities. There was no doubt about it. Yaya's seal was indeed the image of Her Royal Highness, but Amu either couldn't see or didn't care for the significance.

"Is the landlord's face for this here tavern, sir," Yaya explained; "as a tribute to Her Royal Highness. Mad royalists a lot o' people here were before the scandal, Ya Maj'sty. A bright and prosperous future for Seiyo an' all, you were, up 'til recent."

"I can't _imagine_ why," Amu muttered drily, but the girl ignored her. She nodded towards the painting, calm and collected.

"But you'd be surprised. Even after all that's happened, people still come here to look at you, you know, Your Highness, perched high up there." Yaya smiled somewhat humbly at her. "On'y on certain days, of course. We have to keep your likeness covered up at times on account o' the scandal an' all. Some of our clientele weren't so appreciative since then, you understand." She shrugged lightly; "But they don't come in here no more - or, at least, the ol' landlord won't let 'em. But, when all's good an' everyone's jolly, locals here'll sit about by this hearth 'til the small hours of the mornin' and spin sea-stories worthy of the ol' legends themselves." And she beamed; "Seiyo hasn't had this much excitement since the ol' pirate lord roamed the seas hisself! You're every little'un's favourite story now - whether they knew about that Lock or not! You're the royal who ran off with the ruffians!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Amu thought she saw Ikuto desperately fight back a cheeky smirk. She didn't turn to check, but she caught Utau rolling her eyes in his direction. She ignored them. Currently, Yaya sighed and looked up fondly at the royal painting;

"A story may be just a story, but it don't matter," she said. "Just the same as a lock may be nothin' but a lock. Those who don't despise it… Well, we _adore_ it if you don't mind me saying so Your Highness. It does us well in these uncertain times, miss."

Amu tried to respond. Really, she did, but the words were stuck in her throat. She glanced over at their host and saw that Yaya's eyes were wide again; full of wonder; full to the brim with childish glee so pure that it almost broke the princess' heart to admit;

"I…" she shook her head weakly. "I don't have it." And Yaya's face fell - a fairy legend shattered; a childhood dream destroyed; that bright light her eyes dimming as the dazzling sun slips behind solemn cloud and, so rent by the theft of her most precious possession, Amu could not deny that she felt that girl's childhood loss tug at her own heart. "It was stolen from me." she said finally. "The previous Captain - he took it from me. He kept it... I never had a chance to steal it back."

Yaya looked away, crestfallen, and Amu felt her heart sink like an iron weight. The loss of her mother's lock was as ever gaping hole within her chest and, apparently, her companions felt equally disheartened because nobody said anything for a good few moments. Yaya cast her gaze gingerly upwards towards the portrait. Utau sighed quietly and slouched back in her seat, a frown etched across her face and a bitter curl upon her lips and Amu thought that she was probably picturing that very Captain's ghastly face in her mind. The fire was still spitting away, popping and spluttering and radiating golden warmth upon the forlorn figures gathered around its hearth. Hung high above it, Amu could almost kid herself that its light danced in the crystals of her Humpty Lock as it did beneath the sun itself - beneath the moon and the stars and against the brilliant shimmer of the sparkling tide.

Eventually, the princess uttered;

"Yaya…"

Yaya raised her head by a fraction, but did not speak.

"You really believe that the Humpty Lock brings good luck?"

And, without even missing a beat, the young girl nodded. "Of course!"

A smile twitched faintly at the edge of Amu's lips. This girl was so delightfully innocent; so full of life and cheer that it warmed her heart. She reminded her of her sister; of precious, sunkissed summers long passed; of sitting beneath the starlight on her balcony edge and indulging in the sort of outlandish, enchanting fantasies that only childhood could conjure up. And Amu was not sure that she had ever wholly believed the legend behind the Humpty Lock - nor, for that matter, that it even lead to fortune - but Ami had. In fact, now that she thought about it, this Yaya was probably about the same age now as her little sibling. The pinkette almost had to remind herself that she was talking to an entirely different person. She pushed the thought away and pressed on;

"What about it's Key?"

Yaya looked about ready to nod so fiercely that she'd give herself concussion, but before she could Ikuto stepped in, brushing lightly past, angling himself just slightly enough that the shadow of his form was cast about the room and the lot of them were plunged into a sudden gloom. "The Key is a different matter," he began; "Kazuomi may already have his hands on the Humpty Lock, but by our blood we will ensure that the Dumpty Key never falls into his possession."

At this, Yaya's jaw just about dropped to the ground. "Ya'll know where it _is?"_ she exclaimed in a hushed kind of whisper. "The ol' Cap'n searched his whole life for that Dumpty Key! Ya'll _surely_ can't 'ave found it!"

In the dim light, Amu and Ikuto exchanged subtle looks which, thankfully, went unnoticed by the girl, far too wrapped up in her own excitement to pay attention. Kukai, however was less so;

" _Well..."_ he said slyly, tapping the bridge of his nose and winking openly. "Can't say fer sure, but I- _AGH-! Utau!"_

The blonde just rolled her eyes, unimpressed, and removed her elbow from the dimwit's stomach; "What Kukai _means_ is it doesn't matter either way. Whether we have any inkling of the Dumpty Key or not, Kazuomi will not be getting away with the Lock so easily."

"Ourselves and an entire crew of men await their revenge." Ikuto smirked wryly. "And, until we can deal out such justice as we deserve, we will search the seas ourselves to find him." And then the chill grin faded and a darkness overcame his face as he closed in on the girl before him; "But… You have had correspondence with my stepfather… Am I right? You summoned us here tonight and, unbeknownst to the rest of us, you recognise my sister, yet I don't recall your face…" Yaya shivered, but hesitated. The Captain gazed down upon her curiously. "Who are you, exactly?"

There was a pause. Yaya shifted uneasily, but her expression grew soft and nostalgic. A sad smile twitched at the corners of her lips. She sighed; "Cap'n… 'Tis a shame truly that you don't recognise Yaya's face. Yaya remembers you, sir. Oh, truly, Yaya remembers the young li'l Tsukiyomi just as Yaya remembers Utau an' the Lady an' the noble Sir of the house, though Yaya would 'ave been still just a young'un the day disaster called."

Ikuto's face fell. Amu saw him pale. "What do you know of-"

"Yaya must say, young Tsukiyomi, sir, it's a real great pleasure to finally meet ya again after all this time!" she burst out, bouncing on the spot, grinning from ear-to-ear. "Yaya was so worried when Yaya's parents told her the family were gone! Yaya's ma was a seamstress, Cap'n, sir! Ma used to stitch for the Lady an' young Utau on occasion. The Lady Tsukiyomi was one o' the kindest Yaya's ever met, sir. Ma used to take work from her as often as she could get her hands on it. An', well…" she faltered. Something sorrowful fell across her face. Yaya swallowed thickly and went on, hesitant; "The last time Yaya an' ma walked up the path to the mansion… There was none. Burned to the ground, it was, an' still smokin' even as we left it… Yaya didn't understand it…"

Ikuto watched the girl carefully. She was slinking into shadow now, looking just as lost and bewildered as he supposed she had that day. He felt almost sympathetic.

"But that's why Yaya became a spy, ya see!" she declared proudly. "When Yaya was old enough herself the Cap'n came to this here town, ya know. Yaya was small, but Yaya could work as well as any other an' after the raid she noticed some o' those scoundrels frequentin' the landlord's place more than some. Not many authorities round here since that raid, ya see. People are poor. We don't got much the navy wants protectin', so it suited the Cap'n well."

"That's _awful."_ Amu cut in, sounding scandalised. She was red in the face, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "What it would cost my family to defend this town as well as all others, well… Let's just say we wouldn't be digging deep in our pockets."

"Nah," Yaya shrugged dismissively. "It worked out well, ya see, Ya Maj'sty. If it weren't for that, Yaya would never 'ave been able to bring ya'll here tonight! Ya know, the ol' Cap'n's thugs used to come by an' stay upstairs so often that he'd send 'em their correspondence straight here! Letters an' scrolls an' bird - the lot!" And, at the pirate's astonished expressions, she laughed aloud; "O' course a lot of 'em died in a shootout just outside o' town, but the messages kept comin'. Kept on turnin' up a year straight after that, in fact, an' one day Yaya just thought ' _to hell with it!',_ so she read the lot an' who's name did Yaya come across? Tsukiyomi, o' course! Yaya never forgets a name!"

To the side, Utau sat back leisurely in her seat and smirked mischievously. "Of course," she began, grinning even wider at the bewildered look on her brother's face. "It was easy enough for Yaya to connect the dots. It's been a while since our last exchange, though. Kazuomi did his best to keep a tight hold on outside messages."

Their host nodded. "Yaya even heard about the Cap'n's plot to capture the princess!" she chimed in a little too delightfully for the subject at hand. "O' course, Yaya just got proclaimed a ravin' lunatic for her troubles, but-"

"I'm sorry," Ikuto interrupted, holding out a hand to cut her off. He looked utterly sceptical. "Kazuomi's men have been sending messages to a few dead men all these years?" he said, doubt heavy in his voice. When Yaya nodded, he looked torn. "My stepfather is admittedly smarter than that..."

But, to their great disbelief (and mild horror) Yaya just shrugged, laughing gleefully as though Ikuto had said something utterly hilarious; "Can't find out they're dead if ya don't find the bodies!" A terrible silence followed. Kukai and Amu backed away in fear. "Well, ya'll should know better than most," Yaya elaborated; "that folk up an' down this country don't take well to the like o' pirates! Any buccan or thief or beggar dies in this town an' they get chucked straight into an unmarked grave. No fuss, no hassle - we just get 'em out the way as soon as possible. There's a whole cemetery on the edge o' town for 'em. Why, when these sorry men o' fortune died here, the landlord had 'em on the back of his cart and up the track to Dead Man's Hill faster than Yaya could pour him a drink for the road."

The pirates exchanged dubious looks. Ikuto's gaze fell upon Amu. She looked deep in thought, considering all of this carefully, but didn't respond. Kukai shrugged; "I mean," he began slowly; "they were pretty keen to get _you_ outta the way, Cap'n."

Ikuto felt like heaving an almighty sigh. "Thanks, Kukai." he muttered, rubbing his temples. This whole business was growing tiring very quickly. He made to go on - made to launch himself into a further interrogation of this young girl - when Utau clicked her tongue impatiently.

"Oh, will you give it a rest, Ikuto?" she huffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest and inching over to stand beside the young girl. "Do you honestly think I would've been sending secret scrolls to Yaya for all these years if I didn't trust her?"

Ikuto blinked, stunned to silence. But it was only for a second. He sent her a glower. "I don't doubt your instincts, Utau," he said slowly - patiently as though trying to speak sense into a small child. "Would you trust _me_ as your Captain if I didn't give it any thought? I'm not blundering foolhardy into a trap - not now. Not after stepping so close to the gallows once before."

Utau looked aghast. "And _who's_ fault was _that_?" she demanded. "No one forced you to go running off into the blue-"

" _Ooh,_ and a mighty good bit o' fortune there that Cap'n made it out unscathed!" Yaya interrupted (much to Ikuto's relief), her hands clasped together before her face, praying as if in thanks and babbling on; "Yaya would've gone to the square that day, ya know, sir, but Lord knows the journey up the coast ain't cheap an' the landlord was up in bed too low to serve the bar that day. But word travels fast, sir! Why t'was on'y the afternoon when our locals came in babblin' about a shootin' an' pirates an' sunken ships! _Oh the excitement_! Yaya was bouncin' behind the bar all day! Lucky for you, Cap'n, to have a crew so brave an' daring!"

At this, Kukai beamed. "Say no more! Say no more, my lady!" he laughed aloud, clapping a hand across his knee; "Ya hear that, Cap'n? ' _Brave an' daring'_! Ain't no regular bodyguard, am I?"

In the background, Amu snickered. Ikuto ignored her. And Kukai too, in fact. He turned his back on the still-chortling pirate and tried to focus on the issue at hand. "This doesn't settle the fact that these men have been receiving summons from Kazuomi." he told Yaya sternly. The girl immediately shrunk under his stare, if by only a fraction, but nodded happily. "Explain." he demanded. "What was the summons?"

Almost immediately, Kukai fell quiet. A hush overcame the room. Yaya held her breath - for the first time actually looked _nervous_ under the gaze of her four guests as they regarded her with eager eyes, the flicker of the firelight dancing across their faces, the shadows shifting about their feet. They watched on as the young girl twiddled her fingers and cocked her head, considering long and hard how best to begin.

Just as Ikuto's patience was beginning to run short, Yaya nodded at the chair by the fireplace. "Yaya thinks you oughta sit down, Cap'n." she said simply. "Yaya has some explaining to do."

Ikuto looked back at the chair only briefly. On the contrary, just about every one of them now was on their feet, inching closer, watching the girl with curious eyes, their breath held. Realising that none would follow, Yaya caved;

"He's gatherin' his gangs," she said, her voice strained; "He's gatherin' 'em up to make a crew."

There was a pause. Ikuto opened his mouth only to close it again, his thoughts jumbled. Suddenly, as the pirates cast each other nervous looks, the howl of the torrent outside became a terrible roar against the windows; the room was swept with an icy chill - numbing and bitter and unforgiving as though the rain and the gale and the winter frost had been cast up all at once and blown into the empty hall. Even the flames leapt precariously in the fireplace as the whistle of the wind echoed down the chimney breast. When no one else could find the words to speak, Amu shivered and shook her head slowly;

"N-No…" she uttered weakly. She had meant it to sound forceful, but it came out more like a feeble breath, laced with doubt, steeped in hesitation. "H-He can't be… He can't have enough men left for a crew, surely?" she exclaimed, whirling to face everyone else in turn as though hoping they would jump to her defence.

But no one did. Ikuto remained silent, looking lost and far away in thought. Utau bit her lip and began shifting restlessly on the spot. Apparently, she had no reason to disbelieve Yaya's claim because she immediately cursed; "That _fiend!"_ she muttered lowly, her tongue dripping with venom; " _That fiend..!"_

"How many brutes does he _have?"_ Kukai burst out of nowhere, looking utterly at a loss. Though no one else responded, Amu saw his panic reflected in the eyes of each of their companions. "I mean, the ol' Cap'n never kept it _subtle!"_ he cried frantically; "He took off with a ship o' the line - _His Maj'sty's_ first-rate! What if he comes back with a galleon or a man-o'-war bigger than the Shinin' Black? He'll need a hundred men! Blimey, if he's really got that many lackeys waitin' on-shore, he'll blow us out the water!"

"Calm down, Kukai!" Amu shushed, but it was too late. With that single admission, an unsettling dread had fallen upon them. It was clawing at their hearts; pooling in the pit of their stomachs; the sudden chill crawling like insects across their skin and Amu could see it in their faces - the fear; the alarm; the unspoken disquietude - for, after all they had been through, they all knew now that their former Captain was capable of things they had never foreseen. He was unpredictable; he was crafty and cunning and as callous as to be fit of a legendary pirates life, but above all he was as changeable and volatile as powder too close to a flame or else as turbulent as a sudden squall in uncharted seas. Their foe was as fickle as ever, but, more pressingly, it dawned upon them now that he was only growing in strength and, as much as Amu didn't wish to admit it, Kukai was right. Kazuomi would not settle for less than the Shining Black. If he truly was about to commandeer his own craft and make off into the blue, he would be seeking something more steadfast.

And yet, Amu found she did not share her companions' fear.

"But it doesn't matter," she muttered before she could stop herself. Her throat was dry and her fingers gripped numbly at the hem of her cloak, now wrapping herself up firmly as though it would shield her from the gathering storm, but she swallowed thickly and went on with as much determination as she could muster; "I don't care _how_ many men Kazuomi may have - he's still as desperate as ever! If he really wanted to come after us, he'd have done so long ago, but it has been _months!"_ At the uneasy glances thrown her way, she felt her resolve only strengthen. To her surprise, she found herself grinning deviously. "He's _scared_ of us." Amu smirked. "He ran away like a good-for-nothing coward and left us all to die, but now he knows we're alive and yet... Still _nothing!_ He took all his best men with him that night and now he knows that somewhere sails an entire crew of men who want to see him swing - who want revenge! Who want to see him keelhauled and marooned and left swaying in a rusty gibbet fit to feed the crows..!" And, with the dying light of the fire glowing like a glorious sunset upon her face, Amu lowered her voice to a hush - conspiratorial and defiant, yet it was like a beacon of hope in that dull, gloomy tavern that night. "I think that he knows." she said. "And I think he's afraid... Because he knows we're coming after him."

There was a second or so of quiet as the other pirates let the words sink in. Kukai's mouth was agape, his gaze cast blankly towards the fire as he tried to get his head around it all. Utau looked almost doubtful… But Ikuto grinned darkly and the sight lifted her heart; freed her spirit; ignited some newfound wild, devious delight within her soul as the smirk spread across his face; "Why else would he gather every man at his disposal unless he expected a struggle?"

"Let him find us if he wishes," Amu nodded. "I want to see the fear in his eyes."

Ikuto let out an almost sadistic chuckle. His eyes were sparkling as he inched closer to her, the blood growing once more hot within his veins. "Believe me, no amount of men will save him." He added, turning briefly to each of his crew and it soon grew apparent that his willpower was infectious - his resolve catching as one by one his courage was kindled in each of their hearts. "Whatever craft he's got his hands on we'll send straight down to the deep - we'll have her smoking as we did the Emerald Line!"

Ikuto's declaration was interrupted only by Yaya's murmurs of agreement, but was not long before his grin was mirrored on the faces of crewmates. The tension in the air lifted. He saw the glint in each of their eyes and it was daring. It was liberating. All of a sudden lifted from his former gloom, Kukai sprung back into life, clapped his hands and rolled up his sleeves and grinned mischievously; "I like the sound 'o that, Cap'n!" he exclaimed. "So, ya reckon we'll catch up with the bastard before he spies us?"

"Who gives a damn?" Utau piped up, sharing with him a devilish look. "Amu's right. I'll bet he's arming himself for defence - not for attack."

"Well, he can't outrun us forever," Ikuto said, looking thoroughly cocky and entirely triumphant even though they had barely begun their pursuit. No one pointed this out to him. On the contrary, his unbeaten attitude was shared by just about every one of them there that night. "We need to head back to the ship," he declared; "as soon as possible. Yaya, has any word reached you of Kazuomi's vessel? Does he have one already?"

Yaya shook her head. "Yaya doesn't know," she said lightly. "Yaya will send you any word she hears! She thought it best to warn ya'll!" Yaya added in, offering the sunniest of smiles. "Yaya didn't think it wise to relay the ol' Cap'n's plans over message. Yaya was afraid you'd think it a trap! But no matter... Ah, to hell with Yaya's landlord! Yaya'll fetch ya the finest rum in the house before ya hit the road!"

This news seemed to gladden Kukai in particular. Ikuto muttered a thanks, though he was admittedly too preoccupied in his own head with all this new information. Hell, even Amu perked up at the thought of some fiery draught to help her brace against the God-awful storm, but it was then - as the group gathered up their cloaks; as Ikuto drew Utau aside and began to whisper urgently about their next move; as Yaya hopped behind the bar and began rattling about with mugs and bottles and spirits of every kind - that they heard it…

Over the chinking of glasses, Amu just about noticed.

There was a light thud from the floor above their heads. A trickle of dust fell from the rafters. As it settled atop the bar, Yaya froze.

In a matter of moments, all hell broke loose.

An almighty ' _BANG!'_ sounded from somewhere beyond the threshold - towards the back door from whence they'd come - and all of a sudden a bitter, _piercing_ gust of ice-cold swept the drinking hall - a gale-force wind so fierce that the fire was almost completely wiped from existence. The few candles dotted about the walls were extinguished. The darkness crept in. They heard the patter of rain and the hiss of the wind and, as faint voices drifted through into the room, their hearts leapt.

Upstairs, a man was shouting;

" _PIRATES! BUCCANS! SCOUNDRELS! SCOUNDRELS IN MY TAVERN! DOWNSTAIRS!"_

At that moment a deafening rumble of thunder met their ears, all but drowning out the voice of the man above, fraught with panic, hysterical;

" _PIRATES!"_

From somewhere in the darkness, Yaya gasped aloud and dropped a mug. It exploded with an ear-splitting shatter at her feet. " _Yaya's landlord!"_ she cried. " _Yaya's landlord! He must've been droppin' eaves! Oh, Lord help us!"_

"You landlord is _here?"_ Utau exclaimed, her mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Yaya slipped a draught in his drink!" she defended. "He were s'pposed to be out cold 'til the mornin'! Oh, _curse_ it all!"

" _Leave_ it, Utau!" Ikuto hissed, throwing his cloak over his head, firmly grasping the hilt of his cutlass as they cowered beneath the din upstairs. He egan barking orders - told them to flee; to stick to the darkness; to make it back to the Shining Black heedless of who was behind them, for they could not afford to keep to such an obvious group - when there came a rattling from one of the back rooms and the sound of metal hitting stone and Ikuto stopped dead in his tracks. Suddenly that commotion made sense - explained the chill and the wind and the banging. Ikuto's blood ran cold.

The alarm had been raised. And now help had arrived.

Beyond the door, they heard men's voices. They were growing louder now, creeping closer - they had broken down the backdoor in an attempt to catch them unawares and now they were crashing through the kitchen, sending pots and pans and ceramic plates to the floor in a deafening racket. The pirates were snapped from their daze. They scarpered.

" _Yaya!"_ Ikuto hissed; " _The front! Quickly!"_

She was scampering toward the entrance without question, pulling a loop of keys from the pocket beneath her apron, heart pounding as she led them down a short corridor.

" _Fastest way to the docks?"_ Ikuto whispered frantically.

It took her a moment to answer. Yaya's face was pale. She was hurriedly fiddling with the lock, trying desperately with shaky hands to twist a key into the padlock hanging from the handle, but eventually she gasped; "S-Slip into the alleyway across the square..!" She was slipping out of concentration. As they stood close to the door itself, they still heard the landlord crying out into the night and they figured at once that me must have been leaning out an upstairs window, screaming into the streets, his voice echoing between the buildings. "Take a right an' follow the path you came!" Yaya told them. As she spoke, the padlock opened with a satisfying ' _click!'_. "It's safe enough! They'll all be in 'ere soon enough! Yaya will stall the men out back! They know Yaya! She'll try and send 'em off!"

"Be careful, Yaya. And thank you," Utau breathed. "Send us news whenever you can."

The young girl just nodded, still as white as a sheet, biting at her lip as the din behind them grew greater - the voices of many men echoing throughout the rafters as they tore through the ground rooms - Yaya grabbed the handle and stepped aside to let them pass…

Only… The moment the door was open, they were greeted by the piercing ' _shing!'_ of swords.

" _THEY'RE HERE!"_

" _ARM YOURSELVES!"_

Neither Yaya nor Amu nor any of the pirates even knew what was happening until they found themselves faced down by no less than four rusty blades. There was a ' _thunk!'_ , a frantic scuffle against the floorboards and Utau was on the floor, her head spinning, a man standing over her with the most heavily-guarded sword Amu had ever seen held firm in his hand. It's brassy shine was mottled with blood. Kukai growled and drew his pistols to the man, but two more were behind him, each with a stained-looking sabre his chest and a blazing fire in their eyes. Amu yanked Yaya out of the path of a man with a long, curved dagger and drew her own only to find herself cornered by locals with nasty, pronged forks. She did a quick count as best she could in her befuddled head and realised that seven men had been waiting for them beside the entrance all along and now they were trapped, stunned still in confusion.

Time seemed to slow. The wind seemed to falter. Even the torrential wash of the rain on the road seemed to still as Amu and her companions found themselves facing down the furious eyes of the local men… In reality, she supposed that only a moment had passed - a mere second or so, for the men towards the back of the tavern had not appeared just yet and the men had barely moved… But it was all an illusion. In the back of her mind, she half-wondered how long the world might stop if given the chance…

And then Amu smelled powder.

There was a flash of fire; a billow of smoke; a blood-curdling yell and one of the men with the pitchforks was punched back into the wall beside her. Too stunned to scream, Amu watched in shock as the man slumped to the floor, his blood streaked across the plaster, a bullet hole smouldering in the back of his neck. The spell broken, the second man leapt on the spot and was almost instantly silenced. Two bullets burst through his shoulder - another tore through his chest - and, when he fell, Amu saw Ikuto standing with a smoking gun and a scalding ire the likes of which she had rarely seen flaring in the depths of his eyes. But there was no time for her to thank him.

Adrenaline surged through her veins. Amu gripped one of the forks. The man with the guarded sword piped up;

" _Tsukiyomi! I-Ikuto Tsukiyomi! And Her High-AGH!"_

But he staggered, falling to his knees - not dead, but bleeding profusely as Utau leapt to her feet, grabbing the hilt of her cutlass and slashing the back of his shoulder. The blade in his grip clattered uselessly to the floor and shone crimson as he fell with a thump beside it, run through, her heel on his back as she delivered her final blow. Immediately another came for her, but she cracked the guard of her weapon across his cheek and struck him whilst he was stunned before moving on and freeing Kukai from a deadly duel with two men who had seen fit to spring upon him both at once.

Behind her, Ikuto charged forward in a trail of smoke and with his cutlass attempted to strike down the next opponent - a man so muscled and bulky and so strikingly similar to one of Kazuomi's brutes that it was honestly quite repulsive - but was taken by surprise. The Captain found himself staggering against the wall, winded and bruised. His cutlass slipped from his grip and was lost to the shadows about them. The man was fighting with his bare fists, it seemed and his knuckles were red and raw, yet no less formidable (nor menacing) as he took yet another swing to Ikuto's gut. He dodged - as agile and fleet-footed as ever, almost _thanking_ Kazuomi for his years of torment, for otherwise he'd never have had the practice to outmanoeuvre such a monster…

But it was not enough. Ikuto could do little more than flee. The man's eyes were gleaming. His teeth were bared. He was blundering away on some nonsensical, hate-filled and buccan-related tangent (or at least it sounded so) when, after a great deal of fumbling throughout the chaos, Amu at last found Ikuto's weapon in the darkness and with all her might took a blind swing in the thug's direction. She heard him hiss - just about saw the spark of fury in his beady eyes - and somewhere deep down she almost felt proud of herself for managing a hit. It was not lethal, but it was a hit nonetheless. After all, she had never fought with a sword in all her life! And yet here she was - her knuckles turning white around the hilt, her skin bristling as the man tried to throw a punch towards her. She took a shot at another swing, but her balance was off and her heart was pounding, the adrenaline making her stumble, and she managed little more than to dodge just in time as his fist flew past her face. To her right, she heard Ikuto cry her name. She could just about see him now - mere feet away on the other side of the corridor. The cutlass was growing heavy in her hand.

" _Ikuto!"_ Amu called as she was forced to duck to her knees, for another man sprang from the darkness and tried to stick her through with a twisted blade. " _Over here!"_ And she slid the cutlass across the floor, watching it's silver glint grow overwhelmed by the gloom as it skidded away from her. But her aim was true. She heard it thunk against his boot and, only seconds later, the entire floor reverberated as the tall, muscular man collapsed in a pool of blood.

" _Ikuto!"_ Amu called as she was forced to duck to her knees, for another man sprang from the darkness and tried to stick her through with a twisted blade. " _Over here!"_ And she slid the cutlass across the floor, watching it's silver glint grow overwhelmed by the gloom as it skidded away from her. But her aim was true. She heard it thunk against his boot and, only seconds later, the entire floor reverberated as the tall, muscular man collapsed in a pool of blood.

" _Amu!"_ a voice called out, frantic and shaky, but it was not Ikuto this time. The princess felt gentle hands on her shoulders as she hauled herself to her feet. Yaya's eyes were wide and fearful. "There'll be more of 'em comin'! The square won't be safe! Yaya hears them!"

Amu opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late. Through the open entrance, many lights were springing forth around the square outside - flaring into life in many windows - and she knew that Yaya was right. It was just like the last time, she thought with a shudder. She was almost grateful as she watched the girl slam it shut, blocking out the dreary sight. She looked back at the rest of her group. Ikuto, Utau and Kukai were all sweating, wiping their sullied blades on the back of the dead men. All seven lay face-down at their feet. They'd made short work of them.

There was still all manner of crashing and calamity resounding from back down the corridor and, by the intensity of their echoes, she guessed that the rest of their foes had made it into the drinking hall.

"It sounds… Sounds like there's too many," she breathed.

Utau and Kukai looked like they agreed, but said nothing. It seemed there was no alternative. With a deep, steadying breath, Ikuto reloaded his pistol.

"Let's get this over with." he said. He faced them; " _To the ship!"_ he barked and there was a hard edge to his voice - a fearsome bite as cruel as the shine of his sword. It said ' _fight or die'._ And each of them knew it. They braced themselves.

Amu picked herself up and watched - half in horror, half in awe - as her three crewmates stormed past, weapons in hand, the determination set as in stone upon their features, rushing as a tirade upon their foes with the shine of steel in their eyes as swords clashed in the drinking hall, echoing throughout the building. There were no less than fifteen men in that hall and, from what Amu saw of that encounter, it could be said that not one of them was a worthy opponent. The majority of them were either drunk or otherwise too old or out of shape to put up any decent fight, though Amu wasn't quite sure what she'd expected. There was little military presence in this town. There was naught to call upon save any local folk who were still awake and, by the looks of it, most of them had just rolled over from the other watering holes across the street. Their swords, she realised, were not even of any worth. They looked to be decorative pieces - the kind of false grandeur one found hanging in the most ostentatious homes - and, as Ikuto disarmed a man with one such weapon, the blade snapped clean from the hilt and skidded uselessly beneath a table. The man was down within seconds.

" _Ya Maj'sty!"_

At Yaya's cry of alarm, Amu turned just in time to swerve from an oncoming blow. She and Yaya scowled fiercely at a young man who had just attempted to craftily sneak up on them, wielding a fire poke stolen from the hearth, brandishing it about dangerously in the dim light. Amu unsheathed the dagger from beneath her cloak with gritted teeth, though, honestly, she knew that it would be of little use. She would never get near him. The man swung again - a deadly, downward aim this time - and the force of the strike had the floorboards splintering between them. Amu brandished her puny dagger for what it was worth and glared at the man, standing her ground, yet still she couldn't help but pray for any sort of aid! Even a fallen weapon would do! One of those long, lookalike swords or another prong from the fire, but those that had fallen were out of reach and the brute was blocking her path to the fire grate and so she was stuck - utterly stuck with next to naught to defend herself!

Amu looked around frantically, taking the chance to survey her surroundings whilst she dodged another oncoming blow. Yaya was nowhere to be seen, but she could just about hear the girl's shrill voice echoing about the rafters. Over on the opposite side of the room, Utau was locked in a fistfight with an scrawny fellow who was probably barely of age. With remarkable skill and ferocity she threw a fist at his eye and kicked his legs from beneath him whilst he was still recoiling from the strike. She stuck him on the end of her sword with little effort before taking on a thug who had tried to sneak up on her brother. Ikuto threw her a hasty thanks and tried to deflect another's cutlass, but the two were equally matched and through the clash of swords and cries of strength, Amu heard him curse.

Thankfully, the princess was not the only one watching. Whilst she desperately tried to knock her opponent's weapon away with her feeble knife, Kukai drew his bloody dagger from the back of one of the locals and reached for his two pistols; " _Ikuto, watch'a!"_

Ikuto ducked on instinct and leapt out of the line of fire. His opponent whirled, stunned and struck with horror at the sight of the barrels. Behind the bar, Yaya crouched in a ball on the floor and covered her ears. Utau dove to the left and shoved another man in the firing line with an ear-splitting cry of " _Fire!"_ when-

There was a cough. A splutter. The room suddenly seemed very quiet. The double-click of Kukai's twin pistols could be heard even to Amu on the opposite side of the room.

Nothing happened.

Kukai's jaw dropped open; " _Wha-?"_

Only to be interrupted by a cry of pain and a sudden ' _BANG!'_ as Ikuto's pistols lit up yet again. His expression was furious, his lips curled in disdain as he sent the man he'd been grappling with flying across one of the tables. Kukai was still staring at his weapons in disbelief as his Captain faced another foe. " _What did I tell you?"_ he threw over his shoulder, his voice thick with effort as he clashed cutlasses yet again. " _Your powder's wet!"_

The young pirate's heart dropped like a weight. " _Fuck!"_ he threw his useless pistols across the room in fury and, quite by accident, managed to clock a slow-witted (and probably drunk) man on the head. The man stumbled and hit his forehead on the side of a table. He fell to the ground unconscious. Kukai laughed aloud. "One down!" he proclaimed and, twirling his cutlass leisurely - as though he were taking a mere stroll in the park rather than fighting for his freedom - he cut down Ikuto's opponent himself. "Need a hand?"

Ikuto scowled, but the two were undeniably efficient as they went about their onslaught, tearing through the few remaining men as a tidal wave upon the town. Amu saw Utau sprint to join them, for they were up against the last remaining locals, and almost wanted to protest. She was still proving utterly futile against her rival! She, at this point, almost angry with herself for not deciding to procure a cutlass before she left the ship. At the time, she reasoned, it would have been useless as she'd had no training with such a weapon, but, God, the princess was just about ready to _beg_ for the chance to lay her hands on a nice, shiny saber! Tired and absolutely sick to death of this nonsense, Amu lunged and for the first time managed to slash the man with the firepoke. It was only on the forearm and she very nearly got concussion for her troubles, but it was worth it. She lunged again - and again! - trying _desperately_ to find a fatal spot to stick her blade when-

" _Ya Maj'sty-!"_

Yaya's voice resounded about the hall. Amu saw a blur as the girl passed by the fire. There was a ' _THUNK!'_ and the sound of ringing metal and, before the princess could so much as blink, the man before her fell to the floor, his face frozen in the most startled expression she'd ever seen.

When Amu looked up, Yaya was standing triumphantly over the man with an iron shovel in her hands. The metal was smouldering, still glowing orange from it's place in the fire.

She breathed, almost laughing in relief; "Amazing…"

"Indeed," Utau's voice said breathlessly behind her. The women turned and found their three compatriots stood amidst the scene of a gory battle. Their clothes were stained. The floor was slick and shining like crimson gemstones under firelight, littered with bodies, their eyes unseeing and skin cold. The pirates had been victorious. Kukai was bent over on his knees, panting, but looking utterly relieved. Ikuto was wiping his cutlass on the back of a man's coat and sheathing it carefully beneath his cloak. He wasted no time;

"To the ship." he said. "Before we're found again."

They obeyed wordlessly, regrouping and sprinting to the back exit - and not a moment too soon, for just as they passed through the kitchen they heard heavy fists banging on the front door. Men were shouting; the walls were shaking; there was another, groundbreaking ' _BAM!'_ and the entire building groaned like a beaten sloop in a gale. They would break the lock, Amu realised with a sickening sense of déjà-vu. The townsfolk were coming. Kukai clapped his hands together and practically pulled the back door from its frame. "Time to go!"

"Oh, take care!" Yaya pleaded. "Oh, what a night! _O'!"_

One by one, they filed out into the dreary night, casting anxious looks back over their shoulders, hands on their hilts and poised to pounce upon any danger when Yaya began to sob;

" _Yaya to be caught coercin' with pirates!"_ she squealed. "The ol' landlord'll throw a _fit!_ A crowd o' boisterous buccaneers in his establishment! _He wouldn't stand for it!"_

Amu felt a pang of guilt. Utau was already feet ahead and hissing for them to follow. But, loud and carefree, Kukai just laughed. "Looks like you're out of a job!" he exclaimed, ignoring her wails of agreement. But there was no time to waste. At that very moment, thunder sounded overhead; a bolt of lightning lit up the alley and the square beyond where many torches were gathering - many people chanting and jeering; the cries of the landlord could still be heard way up above their heads as he hollered out his bedroom window screaming about pirates and murders and thieves… And, amidst the chaos, Kukai grabbed her hand. He beamed;

"Ya oughta tag along for the journey!"

And, without even awaiting her response, he dragged her off the back porch and the five of them vanished into the night.

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : I'm finally back and Yaya's finally here! Honestly, I didn't really like her that much, but she's grown on me since writing this. I hope you're pleased to have her on board.

Plus, as always, my apologies for falling behind _(again!)_. I thought I'd make this one a long chapter to try and make up for it… But I may have overdone it just a bit. Tbh I had no idea how wild this month was gonna be irl. I've sorta left my education to self-study and now I've gotta try and keep on top of everything. I'm surrounded by textbooks. _Send help._

Anyway, thank you for reading and let me know what you thought! Until the next update ^^


	6. Chapter Six

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

The fall of Tadase's staff was utterly deafening - like thunderclaps and cannonfire, echoing against the walls with every furious step. His cane was a calamity; he swept as a coming storm; the flames shook in the candelabras with the swish of his cape until one by one they fluttered out of existence and all was cold; all was dim; all was utterly devoid of cheer on this empty night.

Though, the Commander mused as he powered along the passageways, it had been this way for longer than he cared to remember. These were empty halls. Silent halls. Halls once vibrant and glowing and _warm_ now drained of life - shaded and sullen. This place (this _home_ ) once so grand and gilded and lavishly dressed now lay bare and drab before him - a mere shadow of its former glory… And Tadase almost blamed himself, for as he passed beneath one of the sweeping, marble staircases he saw a shivering young maid cower in his wake. A bitter pang of resentment stirred in his heart. He grimaced, his expression souring as though that deplorable stir had tainted his tongue.

Had he been any calmer that night, he might have loathed what he'd become. Had he been any less wrapped up in his own head - any less ensnared in this entire, exhausting ordeal - he might have stopped to grieve, for there was no one left to witness his lament that night.

Tadase shook the notion off.

He carried on. Soon he could no longer hear the racket of his staff on the floor, growing utterly blind to all save the warring of thoughts in his head. Only days ago word had reached the Hotori home that black sails had been sighted in Seiyo's waters - towards the north, just leagues away from a string of desolate, near-deserted dockside towns… Only stories of black sails on distant waters was not enough. As far as he had heard, no witnesses had reported acts of piracy. No raids; no stolen ships; no gunfire - _nothing!_ Tadase cursed the cowardice of the townsfolk. Had they not been so bent on cowering in the shadows, they might have had something worthy to report, but no… Black sails or not, they could not say whether or not the white diamond had visited their town that night.

Entering his study and heastily lighting a lamp on his desk, Tadase fell back into his chair, gratefully setting his staff aside. There were plenty of new documents littered before him - many all made in preparation for new additions to his fleet. It was only a matter of time before he joined the hunt at sea himself, but, for now, he would arrange for several new schooners to set sail within the week.

Rifling idly through the documents, Tadase quickly came to a small mountain of papers piled neatly to the side. He paused. Slowly, a look of disdain spread across his features. He pushed them away tentatively, as one might make to push unwelcome thoughts to the back of the mind, but the Commander knew that it was only a matter of time until he was forced to deal with them. Tadase had been somewhat reluctant to distribute his 'older brother's' posters during these past few months (for whatever reason he couldn't fathom), yet it didn't matter now, for, in his rage, he just knew that soon there would be one on every door; in every shop; every tavern and Ikuto Tsukiyomi's name would spread like wildfire, his image growing blurred, melting into legend beside Her Highness herself and his fate would forever be sealed. In days to come, songs would be sung of him. Tales would be told. Stories would be spread. Even as Tadase stalked his lifeless halls in the dead of night, wandering aimlessly unto the dawn, he heard his servants whisper amongst themselves, throwing about wild theories; sharing rumours; laughing and tittering in little groups and fantasising of runaway royals and faraway shores beneath the tropical sun…

When he thought about it now, Tadase realised he might have forbidden such romantic fiction to be shared in his halls, but he could not bring himself to do it.

It may have been mere fiction… But it was all he ever heard of her anymore.

Tadase hadn't realise how immersed in thought he had been until the tapping on the door drew him from his reverie. When he finally raised his head, Rima stood in the shadow of the hallway, fiddling absently with a scroll in her hand.

"Commander." she said as a way of greeting and, when he didn't respond, she proffered the scroll to him. It was fresh - the ink only recently dried - and its crimson seal shone like blood in the candlelight. "The Shining Black, sir-" (Tadase almost tore the note from her hand.); "-she was sighted only last night - not three hours' journey south."

He barely noticed the way her voice wavered towards the end of her sentence, so engrossed in studying the delicate scrawl in the light of the lamp. Rima watched, her breath held, biting the edge of her lip…

And then Tadase breathed slowly. Rima saw his entire body soften - saw the tension leave his frame; she watched his ire quell as a snuffed-out flame; she caught the devastated shimmer in his eyes.

But then he stood. A spark seemed to flare renewed in ruby orbs. Tadase's expression hardened as a newly-forged blade.

"Excellent."

~.~.~

As it turned out, Yaya was a better hand on-board the Shining Black than anyone could have ever asked for.

To Ikuto's utter surprise (or sheer delight - he couldn't tell which) it turned out that the girl was perhaps the pluckiest, most daring soul that they'd ever welcomed into their crew to date, for her energy was relentless - like a never-ending well of cheer and enthusiasm shining on throughout the night. Her spirit was resilient against the brunt of the tide, her smile never faltering and with a spring in her step and a beam on her face she had worked the rope and line with all the agility and skill of a hardened sailor as they made good their escape that night - fading into the darkness and fleeing once more out across the empty sea.

In fact, where most of Ikuto's men had flagged late towards the morning (and, really, he couldn't blame them - they'd worked long and hard through most of the day with little rest, after all) Yaya simply flourished. One would never have believed that this was was her first voyage. She was the sole one amongst them who remained when the sun rose red over the waves beyond, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, looking just as chipper as she had in the very beginning and so it was fair to say that the men of the Shining Black were at once in awe of her ceaseless optimism. She bounced from line to capstan; she weaved like a vine through the spars; and to every man she offered such a childish sort of grin as she went about her work that it was impossible not to feel a little lift in heart in return. And it was a good thing too because their flight from the mainland had been so narrow - the fury of the fire licking so hot on their heels - that many of Ikuto's men were left either thoroughly exhausted or thoroughly unnerved.

Ikuto and his little group had returned to the seafront the night before, fleeing through the rain and leaving the now-devastated tavern behind them, to find the Shining Black drifting almost outside the bay and a small handful of the crew awaiting them with rowboats, their eyes wide and terrified, their swords stained crimson and the bodies of local men at their feet. Apparently some of the townsfolk that night had ventured down to defend their dock upon hearing that there were buccans on the prowl. Needless to say, their attempts in battle had been futile and, though the pirate's hearts were grieved to witness the deaths of innocent men, they were all face-down along the quay by the time that black-sailed ship slipped beyond the horizon and vanished once more into the gloom.

And so, quite simply, Yaya's positivity was truly a blessing.

Presently, Ikuto stood beside the helmsman on the quarterdeck, his eyes fixed upon the line of the sea. Above their heads the clouds were growing thinner and the faint shimmer of starlight was just beginning to pierce through the darkness. Night was falling. The waves were hushed and subdued. The crew had just swapped shifts and those who were now relieved of duty lingered on-deck, sitting beneath the warmth of the lantern lights and passing tankards of liquor between themselves. The quiet was shattered by the sound of their laughter. Snippets of song carried gently along the breeze.

The mood was lighter tonight - the danger had passed; the sea had settled; they were once more unbound and free to drift at leisure off across the water and, above all, news of progress in their pursuit of the old Captain had lifted their spirits even more than rest or rum or Yaya's ceaseless energy combined. Even Ikuto could not keep a triumphant smirk from his face as he took up his compass and shifted his gaze towards the sky, sending up a silent prayer to whatever stars might guide them along their course. Having worked throughout the day to put considerable distance between their ship and the King's waters, they were now heading out into open ocean. The sight of miles upon miles of empty sea was truly liberating.

"Alone at last, are we?"

Ikuto glanced aside only briefly as Utau ambled up the companionway and leant along the rail beside him. She scoped her eyes over the horizon. Several times that day they had seen the tell-tale, cloud-like billows of white sail in the distance and had been forced to hastily change direction, but, thankfully, the Captain had the sneaking suspicion that these far-off crafts were little more than merchant ships, for their masts were tiny and few in number even at a distance. Still, it had been an unwelcome sight and Utau had grown visibly anxious.

"I defy any ship to spy us now," Ikuto replied, sounding far more confident than he felt if only for his sister's sake. "Stay clear of the usual trade rounds and we'll be lucky until morning, at least."

Utau appeared somewhat satisfied. Or, at least, she finally stopped scrutinising the skyline and turned back to her brother. "Any orders before I take lead for the night?"

Ikuto hesitated. At times the notion of giving orders at all was still strange to him. At times, he often wondered whether or not he ought to have handed his position straight over to Utau. After all, she had managed the Shining Black exceptionally in those few days after Kazuomi's departure and she was an absolutely remarkable match for quartermaster, but, as reluctantly as he had to admit it, a Captain couldn't choose his crew. Rather, it was up to the crew to choose their Captain and, after all these men had been through, he'd be damned if he was going to let them down.

"Have Yaya put up in a cabin down below." Ikuto said finally, shaking those former thoughts away. "I've a good mind to put her up in the galley."

"Oh?" Utau hummed. "On account of her service at the inn?"

He hummed in agreement. "We've not had a decent cook on-board since we were children." he mused, handing the spyglass over to the helmsman and heading towards the companionway. "Whatever happened to him? I don't recall the man's name."

Utau gave a dry chuckle, devoid of mirth, and followed him down the steps. "Marooned? Deposed? Disappeared in the dead of night in the stead of our Captain? Who knows. Either way, let's hope Yaya's at home in the galley. Frankly, I wouldn't know where else to put her."

"Well, she'd better be," he uttered drily. "Let's hope she can make a banquet out of hardtack and old cheese…" And he sighed, coming at last to the aftercastle. Ikuto stopped in his tracks, his gaze travelling briefly over his crew. They were stood in the shadow of the upper decks, side by side against the entrance to the upper cabins and all around them lantern lights glowed and twinkled like fireflies of a summer night. The men's faces glowed gold in the dark; their eyes shining like paper lanterns; their laughter echoing about the empty night... But, despite the merry atmosphere, the Captain felt some great unrest stir in the pit of his stomach.

They'd been so uplifted at the thought of progress, yet Ikuto still couldn't guess just how far they'd yet to go.

He shook the thought off as quickly as it came. Utau was still beside him, her brows narrowing slightly at his silence. Ikuto tried his best to appear nonchalant. If he was going to distress over the task before him, he thought, then it was best he do it in his own cabin.

"I'll interrogate Yaya in the morning," he told his sister, perhaps louder than intended as he tried in vain to shake the discord in his heart; "If she was really as intertwined in Kazuomi's business as she'd have us believe, then perhaps she can shed light on our 'mystery map'. He would have wanted his henchmen to know in case he had to call on them… "

At this, Utau's eyes gleamed - shining with that sneaky sort of spark her brother used so often. "So…" she practically purred; "my contacts with Yaya proved to be most useful, did they _not,_ dear brother?"

Ikuto rolled his eyes, but his lips were twitching. "Quite the cocky one tonight, aren't we, _sister?"_ he drawled. "But don't get your hopes up _just_ yet. If Yaya doesn't recognise those islands, I don't know what we'll do."

And, upon those words, the atmosphere almost changed. A chill sea breeze swept across the aftercastle, making the little lamps and oil fires shudder and sway, flickering dangerously in the darkness. Utau huffed;

"You'll meet an early grave, Ikuto." she scoffed. And, when Ikuto shot her a bemused expression, she rolled her eyes, her tone softening; "When was the last time you _slept_?"

Ikuto opened his mouth to throw back some cutting, witty remark, but, really, he found none. All of a sudden his jovial attitude was smothered like the shaking candles all around them - foundering as a flame quenched by the sea. Quite frankly, he was more perturbed by the fact that she'd read him so easily rather than the fact she was right. Honestly, he couldn't even remember his last decent rest and he was _sure_ Utau noticed the doubt that passed over his face because she sighed, shaking her head, her pigtails dancing like platinum thread in the moonlight.

"I'll see our new crewmate to her cabin." she resigned. "And I'll take the midnight watch."

And, with that, she was off, muttering beneath her breath as she sought out the nearest hatchway in the darkness. Ikuto watched her until the last, staring off into the night long after the last silver of blonde and lilac had descended down into the depths of the hold.

Exhausted and suddenly quite agitated, Ikuto ran a hand through his hair. The firelight still danced around him.

~.~.~

The lower decks of the Shining Black were, upon nightfall, absolutely sinister. Down here - out of reach from the light of day - it was sometimes said among the crew that foul things lurked in the shadows. The darkness was overpowering, they said. Things dwelt there, they whispered. The creaks and groans of the great frigate as she plowed across the waters' surface they said was the unrest of some unearthly, unholy creature slipping between the decks, watching from the darkness, settling into shadowy corners and hiding under hammocks.

But Utau had learnt long ago that these stories - these eerie tales that once had plagued her dreams - were, at first, more than likely fabricated by the real malice that captained the Shining Black long ago. They were just that - tales and nothing more. They were bedtime horrors designed to haunt her and any other new, young recruits when they were first frogmarched into joining the crew.

She remembered what her brother had said when she had been still young enough to fear the mythical monsters that crept down here in the dark. If anything truly lay hidden down here, he had said, then they were anything but supernatural. No, rather they were living things - living men - for even all those years ago their stepfather had eyes and ears all over his ship and so Utau was still somewhat wary, shaking off imaginary stares, as she descended down, down, down into the darkness, constantly feeling for obstacles shrouded beyond the reach of the lantern light, tripping and stumbling and cursing as her feet caught incessantly on uneven floorboards until;

"And _so..!"_

The blonde paused, the hairs on the back of her neck standing as the whispers echoed about the hold. Instinctively she looked to the shadows, her hand flying to the butt of her pistol, when the voice continued.

"Under the dead o' night, the ol' Lord an' his fleet set sail across the east, they did, followin' the trail 'o the ghanjah. Eighty cannons, she had, an' a four hundred armed guard! O' course, there were passengers aboard - near twice as many as the guard, 'tis said - but few were left to tell the tale after the ol' Lord was done with 'em…"

Utau almost smiled to herself then, the tension disappearing, the air clearing as that voice met her ears. Of _course_ she'd hear them before she saw them, she thought as she reached the lowest deck. How typical! Treading as carefully as she could, she quietly picked her way through the gloom, keenly listening;

"One by one they took out the ghanjah's escort an' once red an' blindin' the sun rose in the morn, off their cannon's went! _BOOM!_ Off an' over the horizon! _Boom, BOOM-!_ The ol' Lord's cannons went up first! He struck their mainmast straight away an' all through the followin' day his fleet struck the treasure-carrier 'til her decks were black an' crimson an' _bombarded_ for all it's worth! And, now boarding, the Cap'n _swung_ across the ratlines an' onto the ship an' he and all his men rounded up the crew an' _tortured_ 'em until they gave up every scrap o' gold they could find!"

Faintly, Utau heard a hushed sort of gasp - a sound of absolute awe - and, as she rounded the final corner en route, she was greeted by the glow of golden candlelight and her heart was warmed at the sight of their newest crew member and Her Highness sat together in the galley, completely oblivious to the blonde as she inched in through the doorway. Yaya was practically stood, her eyes gleaming conspiratorially as she weaved such wondrous tales. Across from her Amu was sat, her hair glowing like a soft halo about her as she listened, captivated;

"An' now they say," Yaya continued, her voice dropping to a whisper - low and hushed as though she was sharing something extraordinarily secret; "even now 'tis told that the trail to the east is littered with ill-gotten gold; that when the wind blows an' catched in a ship's sails, it echoes with the cries of tortured _souls_ … And they say, most of all, that somewhere out there lies the last remnants o' the ol' pirate Lord's Great Treasure…"

And, barely able to contain herself, Utau laughed aloud and immediately the atmosphere was shattered. Yaya squeaked and clamped a hand over her mouth. Amu, who had been faintly forgetting that her jaw was inching closer to the table; jumped about a foot in her seat and straightened up, her cheeks flushing;

"U-Utau-!"

"My, my," Utau began, smiling somewhat fondly as she entered the galley and approached the table. "That's an old tale if ever I've heard one." And, lazily, she plonked herself down into an empty chair. "Not to mention _highly_ overrated."

Amu was still positively pink in the face at this, for she had been so absorbed that she'd barely noticed their quartermaster peering in on them. She'd always been a sucker for a good story - _always_ jumping on-board like a little kid at bedtime - and, somewhat humiliated at the thought, she slunk back in her chair.

Yaya, on the other hand, just huffed. " _Hey_ now!" she whined, puffing out her rosy cheeks like a child. "The pirate Lord's gold is as good a tale as any! Yaya used to tell it to the little'uns down by the dockside."

Utau smiled faintly, but shook her head. She brushed one long, pigtail away from her face and sighed. "It is also, quite unfortunately, the reason we are all here." And she added, somewhat irritably; "Forgive me if I've tired of hearing it."

"But that's what makes it so _interestin'!"_ Yaya protested, leaning across the table again. "Without the ol' pirate Lord an' his fortune, the ol' King would'a never gotten his _treasure!"_ she exclaimed. "An' without the treasure there's never 'ave been the Lock an' Key! An' _without_ the Lock an' Key-!"

"Yes, yes, yes," Utau waved a hand in dismissal, grimacing slightly. "Without the Humpty Lock and Dumpty Key, the three of us wouldn't be sat here, cast adrift on this bloody boat and wallowing in the wake of Kazuomi Ichinomiya's devilry. Need I go on?"

Yaya just shrugged, utterly indifferent, but Amu looked down almost guiltily. "Ah, I'm sorry, Utau," she said, fiddling absently with the stomacher of her bodice as she spoke; "but no one's ever told me the story in full before! I mean, Ikuto told me a long time ago about this ' _Great',_ grandiose treasure that Kazuomi was after, but I didn't ask him to go into _detail_. It sounded make-believe!"

Utau chuckled drily. "And therein lies the issue." she muttered sarcastically. "The Lock and Key might well exist, but, if you ask me, this whole treasure is nothing more than a myth. And yet here we are - _suffering_ because of it." Utau's expression was suddenly bitter, her brows furrowed and arms folded. Amu visibly cringed.

Yaya, however, was absolutely unfazed. "Well," she piped up cheerfully; "if ya ask Yaya, a story's gotta come from somewhere! 'Sides, Yaya's a fantastic storyteller!" she exclaimed, beaming with pride. She went over to a nearby cupboard, fishing out a dusty, age-old bottle of wine and expertly uncorked it between her teeth. "Yaya's got all night!" she went on, beginning to pour out three glasses on the counter. "Anythin' else Ya Maj'sty wants to hear? Yaya's heard 'em all! She can tell ya some stories about the royal lineage if it suits ya fancy!"

Amu laughed somewhat weakly, glancing nervously at their quartermaster as Yaya slid a half-glass of dry wine towards her. She peered with distrust into the murky liquid. This girl suited bar work down to the ground, she thought. She could only imagine just how many long nights Yaya had spent leant eagerly over the bar, regaling her customers with intricate, seamlessly interwoven tales, animatedly babbling on about forgotten isles and pirate gold and maritime heists whilst the drinks went untouched and the fire crackled in the hearth until the wee small hours of the morning.

Although, Amu would have been more inclined to play along had the wine been any better. It was possibly the nastiest stuff she'd ever tasted, but Utau almost looked impressed at Yaya's attitude. She raised her glass to the light, smirking as the barmaid filled her own, and Amu watched in mild horror as she (amazingly) drained the glass in one.

"Well," Utau slowly rose from her seat and gestured vaguely about the galley; "I don't know about stories, but it looks like this is your domain now." she said. "My brother's decided that you should be best suited to work down here. That means divvying up rations accordingly and having them readied three times a day. Although, I admit, we've not much left for you to work with." And she cast a distasteful glance at the rows of cupboards and counters behind them - many of which had been left open, their doors hanging half off the hinges, revealing little more than empty, dust-ridden shelves. Even the familiar barrels which only weeks ago had held countless ripe fruits were left barren, rolling languidly on their sides with the gentle rise and fall of the great frigate.

In honesty, Amu thought that she would have been appalled to be set to work down here when she first joined the crew. The air was thick and stifling, dust hanging like a shroud in the air, and there was absolutely no source of light save for the candles and little oil lamps dotted about the counters. She'd have gone mad confined to the belly of the ship for so long - _especially_ cut off from the light of day - but, thankfully, Yaya's smile only widened. Her eyes glittered like little gemstones. Utau took this as a positive sign.

"You think you can manage?" she asked.

"Oh, o' _course!"_ Yaya nodded so fiercely that it was a wonder she didn't injure herself. "It'd be a _sin_ for Yaya not to know her way 'round a kitchen by now! O, Yaya'll have to thank the Cap'n - if she can get him, that is."

At this Utau let out a sound halfway between a scoff and a dry sort of laugh. Amu raised an eyebrow questioningly. The blonde shook her head; "I wouldn't dream of it," she said; "not 'til morning, anyway. I've relieved him of duty. Quite forcibly too - I haven't seen him so much as _sit_ in two days."

"Hell…" Yaya muttered, clamping her hands over her mouth. "Yaya hopes she hasn't caused the Cap'n too much trouble!"

Utau shook her head. "No," she began wearily; "I admit that none of us have rested as we should since we started this whole endeavour. My dear 'stepfather' had proved himself far more cunning than first we thought." And she wrinkled her nose in disgust; "We've been tied up trying to put together the pieces of the puzzles he left behind."

There was a silence after that - unsettling and tense, as stifling as the dust that lingered in the air - as Yaya peered curiously between them. Utau had hushed, leant against the table, her gaze slowly drifting over to the princess. Amu could feel her eyes boring into her head, but she firmly ignored it. All of a sudden her jovial mood was gone; her thoughts were stirred; there was a disquiet between them as they sat in silence. Beneath them, the shadows emitted low, echoing groans as far above the ship graced over the waves.

When Amu looked up, Utau's eyes were still on her... And, somehow, she thought she understood her. Her thoughts were suddenly bright alive with cobalt blue.

But, all too quickly, Utau snapped out of it. "Well," she said, turning back to Yaya as if nothing had happened; "I don't doubt that Ikuto will want to talk with you about these 'puzzles' anyway. Amongst other things, we've come into possession of a map that we believe may be used to track our old Captain down. As somewhat of an informant, we've wondered if you-"

Yaya gasped aloud; " _No way!"_ she burst all of a sudden. She stood, her hands planted firmly on the table, her eyes wide - so _impossibly_ wide that Amu wondered if they'd fall right from her face. " _Y'all_ have gotten ya hands on one o' the Cap'n's _maps?"_ she exclaimed. Her mouth fell open, but she quickly shut it. She breathed, apparently trying desperately to maintain her composure, but Amu could see that it was a futile sort of calm - that she was apparently so overwhelmed that she could barely stand to contain it. She saw that Yaya's lips were twitching; saw her knuckles tremble; she watched as her eyes sparkled;

" _That's amazin'!"_ the young girl cried. "Yaya's never _seen_ one o' the ol' Cap'n's maps before! Well, not in full, that's sure enough! Maybe a scrap or two here an' there, but-"

"You understand them?" Utau asked in awe. She sounded unusually breathless.

"O' course Yaya does." Yaya shrugged lightly. "Yaya's the spy, remember?"

Taken aback, the other two women fell into a moment of silence. Amu and Utau shared a particularly astonished look and, again, Amu could practically _sense_ that her thoughts mirrored her own.

"Can you read them?" Amu cut in urgently, leaning across the table. An unexpected burst of hope sprang from somewhere in her chest, but she couldn't bear to entertain it - not now, not when all was still so uncertain. "I-I mean, it's-it's not _easy,_ " she said. "But they just _might_ be the key to finding out where the old Captain's fled and-"

"Yaya can try!" she said cheerfully. "Don't worry about that Ya Maj'sty! Yaya'll give it a good damn try if she can take a look at 'em."

At a loss for words, Amu looked back pleadingly at the blonde beside her. But, though she looked about ready to dance for joy, Amu watched as Utau closed her eyes, took a breath and swallowed thickly, her composure returning. "Come on," she began, though it sounded restrained. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'll show you to your cabin, Yaya. We can discuss this tomorrow with the Captain."

Yaya hurriedly downed the last of her wine and dumped their empty glasses back in the cupboard. "Absolutely, Uta-ta!"

"Call me 'Uta-ta' again and I'll throw you overboard."

"Absolutely, Utau!"

And, just like that, the two of them were drifting back out into the darkness of the hold, but, just when Amu thought they were about to disappear into the shadows, a shimmer of lilac caught her eye. Utau was hesitating in the doorway, her lips pursed in a little white line.

"Utau?"

A pause. A flicker of candle flame. Utau's eyes fell on hers and, just as before, Amu's mind became awash with darkest blue-

Utau heaved a sigh. "Never mind."

And, before Amu even had a chance to catch up, she was gone.

~.~.~

Nearly an hour later - when the night had fully fallen upon the world and the Shining Black finally felt the weight of slumber - Amu tip-toed quietly down the corridor, feeling her way through the dim light and hitching up her dress to muffle the persistent rustling of her skirt. She glanced behind her. Through the thick glass of the doors behind her she could faintly see the bright white pinpricks of gently twinkling stars and the soft glow of the ship's lanterns, though few were awake to see them. It was almost midnight by now and the majority of the crew had finally retired to their quarters for the night. Amu was acutely aware as she passed her cabin that she too should be thinking of giving in to the oncoming wave of exhaustion, for she had been up at first light and had helped work the ship through their hasty retreat…

But, as Amu passed her cabin by, she was also aware that she would be absolutely unable to rest for even a moment without first stopping by her Captain's door.

Ikuto's cabin was no longer kept out of reach - the doors no longer barred by locks and chains as they once had been, but, on dark nights like these, Amu still felt just a _little_ apprehensive as she stood beneath their shadow.

A minute or so passed. The doors at the other end of the corridor groaned loudly as the frame shifted and settled. A draught scuttled across the floor and, finally - _timidly_ \- Amu rapped her knuckles against the door.

"Ikuto?"

But, though she waited, there was no reply save for the sigh of the ship and the creaking of floorboards as she nervously shifted on the spot. A few seconds ticked by. The stern of the ship dipped just noticeably as the bow hit the crest of an oncoming wave and, before her eyes, one of the doors shifted, drifting open with gravity as the Shining Black levelled and continued on its languid pace. Taking this as some sort of invitation, Amu swallowed her nerved, gripped the handle firmly, and crept inside.

"Ikuto?"

The inside of the Captain's cabin was dim and her quiet voice echoed endlessly against the walls. Stepping at last over the threshold, Amu almost cowered. Shadows and silhouettes loomed from the dark so suddenly that she slunk back, taken unawares, before realising that they were merely pieces of furniture and that the candles on the desk had long since died, overwhelming the room in a gloomy veil, making the wood stand stark even against the darkness. She breathed a gentle sigh of relief. At times she almost forgot that this cabin was a place to fear no longer. She sometimes forgot that, should she end up entering, she would no longer find all that dust and grime; wouldn't be struck by tension; that she would no more feel the ominous presence of its former Captain as she tip-toed over the floorboards, looking over her shoulder, straining her sight in the dark as though the walls themselves had peering eyes - as if there were still unsightly things lurking deep within the shadows.

Amu shivered, though there was no draught, and quickly lit a lamp on the desk. It wouldn't last long - all around her sat stumps of candles nearly burnt straight through - but that little flicker of warm light was enough to soothe her senses. Relieved, she turned to find that the shadows were gone; the air was clear; and all that had lingered, she resolved, was nothing but a remnant of unwelcome memories. The candlelight shuddered and swayed about the top of the desk. Free from years of dirt and decay, it shone - polished as it had never been before. Amu ran her fingers over it absently, her fingertips tickling the dry, deckle-edged edges of old sea-charts, but the map was not there. _The_ map. The one that she had seen her Captain lay awake over; that had kept he and Utau locked away in this very cabin for days on end; the very same one that still remained riddled with questions and symbols and undiscovered isles until the seas all merged into one - shifting and swirling until they were naught but a crippling, confusing, _persistent_ headache.

In a way, Amu was glad that Kazuomi's map was not there for her to see. As much as she might have wanted to finally crack those codes - to feel the rush of victory and relish in the wind in their sails as they journeyed towards the old Captain's end - she did not want to walk in on Ikuto whilst he was still pouring over them. Not when she still had such haunting memories of that one other who had brooded in here - wallowing in the well of his own, bitter malevolence for so, so long…

" _Damn,"_ Amu whispered to herself, forcing herself back to the present and glancing about the room. She sighed aloud to herself. Truthfully, even if Ikuto _had_ been brooding in here, she had been hoping to find him before leaving him be for the night. Of course, she had meant to make it quick. He had barely relaxed for even a moment whilst they were still sailing into open sea and, well, if _Utau_ was concerned…

The former princess shook her head, absently straightening out the sea charts on the desk and moving them away from the candlelight. She had the nagging suspicion that, even if he were here, Ikuto was likely to stay awake anyway, studying until the small hours of the morning - kept awake by whatever riddles still ran riot in his head. Something uneasy overcame her then. Something was tugging at the strings of her heart. Reluctantly, she walked away, not bothering to extinguish the little candle behind her. With one last look at the empty cabin, Amu pulled the door to behind her and, wringing her hands together restlessly, she retired for the night, resigning to rise earlier the next day and catch her Captain when he headed out on-deck. At least then she could join Yaya in the galley afterwards, she reasoned as she wandered down the corridor and into her cabin. Their new cook would be wide awake and buzzing with excitement for her first day on the job and, honestly, it sounded like just the thing to help shrug the sleep from her head.

Quietly, Amu chuckled to herself. It was amazing how accustomed she was to the ship's routine. When first she'd found herself in this tiny cabin - alone and afraid and so suddenly torn from all she knew - the thought of ever giving in to the buccan way of life was _unthinkable!_ It was amazing, she thought, how she could feel so at home in her tiny cabin now. It was astounding, now that she was used to it, how utterly her outlook on this world had shifted. She and Tadase had, in their youth, joked many times about the habits of corsairs. She had grown up with the notion that these men were nothing but boat-loads of ravenous hounds - dastardly dogs that flitted about with no real purpose, barely caring for the carnage in their wake - but this… This place had stumped her. The men of the Shining Black were not beasts. They were just men - plain and simple - and they were freer and lighter and far more amicable than any true pirate could ever be.

Amu faintly wondered how her ex-fiancé would feel to hear such things.

She pushed that thought away as quick as it came. She tried to settle her mind - tried to dwell on other things as she threw her dress over the back of a chair and rifled about for a nightgown in the trunk at the end of her bed. She grimaced. Every garment she dredged up smelled like mothballs - little puffs and wispy clouds of ancient dust billowing as she shook them out. She and Souko had recently recovered a battered chest full of old clothes that had been upturned and abandoned deep in the hold of the ship and it was fair to say that most of them hadn't fared well against the test of time. Amu scrutinised an off-white gown with a gaping tear across the shoulder. She wrinkled her nose up in dismay and promptly decided that, with not a single decent nightdress in sight, a change of underwear would have to do. She had a newly-washed chemise robe somewhere beneath all this junk anyway, though it took a bit of digging. Satisfied, she held it up to the moonlight, studying the thing for dust or moth-bites…

"Hmm, I think not..." a familiar, silky voice sounded somewhere behind her. A chill swept over her skin. "It doesn't suit you."

Amu jumped so suddenly that she nearly dropped the gown in her hands. She whirled, aghast, to find none other than Ikuto leant casually up against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest and a sly smirk spreading across his face in the dark. His eyes were raking over her form, silhouetted in a silvery light as the moon rose full beyond the window. For a second or so Amu felt as if she'd frozen. Her jaw hung open. Her pulse thumped loudly in her ears. Suddenly her corset felt too tight; her skirt too thin; too _transparent_ …

And then she snapped;

" _Ikuto!"_ she cried, feeling the heat rise rapidly to her cheeks. She broke out of her daze and hurriedly snatched up the dress, feebly attempting to cover herself. " _D-Don't stare at a lady whilst she's undressing! Vi-Vile pirate!"_

Ikuto's shoulders were shaking. "It was only my _opinion_." he said teasingly.

"Very well, Amu, dearest," - she could have shot him for the mocking tone in his voice - "if you are certain, my eyes are to the wall. Hurry up before I get bored."

And, to her immense surprise, Amu watched as he turned slowly, resting his shoulder against the doorway and staring out into the empty corridor. She blinked, taken aback for the slightest of seconds before snapping out of it, throwing off her old garments and stuffing herself into the chemise as fast as she could. In the doorway, Ikuto could barely contain his mirth;

"We wouldn't want to ruin our decency now, would we?" he added slyly.

Half-distracted, Amu scoffed. "There's nothing decent about you, ruffian." she muttered and was rewarded with a deep rumble of laughter. "The _nerve!"_ Amu huffed. "Have you forgotten how to _knock?"_

"Have you forgotten how to shut the door behind you?" Ikuto countered.

She could just _hear_ the smirk in his voice. Amu tried her best to conjure up some scathing retort, but, to her utter dismay, she couldn't think of one. Her heart was still pounding; her cheeks still red and burning, yet she glanced up only once at him and was somewhat placated to know that his gaze was elsewhere. Unaware of herself, she smiled fondly…

Any other Captain would have had his way with her, she realised. Any other pirate would have stripped away her nightdress and her privacy and any decency she had left to spare. Here she was aboard the Shining Black - _the_ most feared and famed corsair's craft in the world… And its Captain was facing the wall as she dressed. And, though he might have been a notorious tease, she remembered with a flush of warmth that he cared for her.

When she was done, Amu looked down bashfully at her nightgown, wrinkling her nose at the creases etched down its front. The thing was way too big for her and far stuffier than she'd guessed. Ikuto was right - it didn't suit her. She felt like an old maid, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of being right. Now more embarrassed than outraged at his intrusion, she averted her gaze in a vain attempt to hide her blush.

"I'm-I'm done!" she said as fiercely as she could. "How about you learn to _knock_ next time?"

And, just for good measure, she threw her abandoned corset at him. It caught him in the face as he turned with a satisfying ' _thwack!'_ and Amu looked on, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

"So _unladylike_ ," Ikuto drawled. He narrowed his brows, curiously peering down at the garment in his hands. He looked torn between amusement and horror. "Is this _supposed_ to be this heavy? Or have you gotten your hands on some sketchy torture device?"

Amu could do little more than laugh aloud as she watched him rub his cheek, growing red after receiving a face-full of baleen. All her ire seemed to melt away.

"What?" she teased coyly. "Has the Captain never seen a lady's corset before?"

Ikuto smirked. He sauntered into the room, waving the garment before her face. "Most women don't throw their underwear at me." he replied with a mischievous grin. "I didn't realise Her Highness was so naughty... Perhaps you'll be glad of my company tonight after all."

He leaned in and Amu felt the heat rise to her face. The way the words rolled off his tongue was growing oddly seductive; his grin was infectious; the lure of darkest, midnight blue was pulling at her heartstrings, stirring things inside her chest that made her heartbeat race. Pink in the face and breathless, Amu snatched the corset back and tossed it into her trunk.

"You'll be lucky!" she retorted, trying not to let herself grow flustered as his laughter met her ears. Ikuto set himself down on her bed and Amu huffed again, shaking her head as she watched him make himself comfortable. Ikuto's eyes were almost cat-like in the low light - each hue of darkest blue catching the soft glow of the moon and rebounding like starlight on the waters. Suddenly feeling quite embarrassed as he gazed up at her, Amu turned away. She grasped at the puffy, unflattering billows of her nightdress and puffed out her cheeks like a child. "What do you want? Here just to harass me?"

If he was perturbed by her tone, he didn't show it.

"Have you been snooping in my cabin?" Ikuto grinned knowingly, rolling onto his back and stretching out across the bed. His eyes never left her. It wasn't a question and Amu knew that the answer was written all over her face.

" _Looking for me?"_

At the utterly seductive tone, Amu forced a frown. "Don't flatter yourself," she muttered, ignoring the way his shoulders shook with barely-suppressed laughter. "You _scoundrel._ "

There was a chuckle. Amu caught a glint of blue in the darkness, shining devilishly. Before she could so much as listen to the warning in her heart, Ikuto's hand was on her wrist, another round her waist, and the cabin was falling away. Amu landed on the bedsheets with a soft squeak of surprise, wrapped in Ikuto's embrace. He laughed mischievously and her cheeks turned red.

" _Ikuto-!"_ \- He hummed lightly in response and she felt his chest rumble beneath her back. She wondered if he could feel her heart beating furiously beneath her stuffy nightgown. - " _Get off_ , you pervert!"

"Actually, I'm quite comfortable." Ikuto said, much to her annoyance. Lying there upon the bed, he breathed against her ear, his arms wrapped tight around her waist; "Didn't you want my company, after all?"

Amu shivered, though not uncomfortably, her breath hitched in her throat. She hoped to God he didn't feel it. "I thought you didn't want to ruin my _decency_?" she muttered, trying vainly to break free from Ikuto's grasp, but it was pointless. She ended up slackening in his grip. Resigned to her fate, Amu gradually settled back and leant against the warmth of his chest.

She had to admit that it was not unpleasant. Her heart fluttered delightfully in her chest as she felt his breathing steady against her back; as his arms crossed over her stomach; she felt her stomach flip and her chest warm as his face settled so perfectly into the crook of her neck. Amu felt then as though she could stay this way forever - as though they could just forget this cabin and this ship and utterly forgo the rest of the world for just _one_ night, wrapped in each other's embrace…

Amu was feeling more relaxed than she had all night when, finally, Ikuto muttered against her skin;

"So," he began, sounding possibly more peaceful than she'd ever heard him; "were you looking for me?"

" _Actually_ ," Amu began in the steadiest tone she could muster; "if you must know, I went to make sure you were actually resting for the night, okay?" Beneath her, Ikuto went quiet. She carried on; "I just… We were just worried, is all… Utau and I..."

There was a pause. Amu almost wondered whether Ikuto had fallen asleep when he sighed;

"Utau sent you to check up on me, didn't she?"

"Well, not exactly," she said, thinking back to those unspoken moments in the galley that night; "but it's been two days, Ikuto." Amu sighed, managing to pull herself upright now that his grip had slackened. She sat, her cheeks glowing in the fleeting rays of moonlight beneath the window, and stared down him. "How do you expect to chase your stepfather across the sea if you work yourself to death?"

At this, an exasperated sigh left Ikuto's lips. The moment was completely ruined, but, somehow, Amu couldn't bring herself to care. She ran a hand gently down his arm;

"We _will_ make it," she said; "we _will_ find him, you know that! But you need to take the time to-"

"We need all the time we can get!" Ikuto cut in, perhaps more forcefully than he meant to. "We _need_ to spend all the time we have working on tracking that dog down! We've been evading the Royal Navy for the past five months and in that time he's just…"

Ikuto stopped. He didn't know how to go on and, really, Amu didn't know what to say. His frame was suddenly tense; his breath suddenly short. As a passing cloud drifted lazily over the horizon, blotting out the light of the moon, a shadow fell across his face and Amu's heart sank.

"Ikuto…"

There was a moment of quiet. Ikuto slowly pulled himself up and settled beside her. Amu's hand was quietly placed on his, his fingers interlocking with hers without a moment's hesitation. In the lull that followed, Ikuto relished in the warmth of her skin; the hush of her breath; he welcomed the soft tickle of her hair against his cheek and he felt the fire of his fury weaken and stutter and finally founder into nothingness like the break of a wave on the shore. His lips brushed gently across her forehead. She smelled like fresh linen and citrus and her hair was laced with salt. Ikuto's breathing steadied. He felt her squeeze his hand and his heart nearly fell in his chest. Amu's eyes were wide and anxious... And it was all his fault.

Quickly, he took his hand from hers and felt his spirit sink, his skin cold. He thought he saw Amu's face fall in the darkness, but the light was too weak to tell. Slowly, he rose from the bed, pacing towards the door.

"I will rest, as you wish," Ikuto sighed. And, turning back, he smiled softly at the sight of honey gold, shining bright against the shadows. "Goodnight, Amu."

And, not waiting for her reply, he stepped out into hallway when-

"Ikuto-!"

Before he'd so much as made it over the threshold, Ikuto was met with a blur of pink and a rush of air and Amu's arms were around him, thrown about his shoulders until the two were chest-to-chest. Her hands grasped tightly on his shirt; her face buried in his front. Ikuto chuckled lightly, taken aback, and ran his fingers through her hair.

"Amu?"

But Amu just shushed him, her voice barely a breath, and, slowly, she balanced on the tips of her toes and pressed a sweet, chaste kiss against his cheek. Warmth spread beneath her touch. His heart quickened.

"Whatever you've been worrying about… " Amu whispered. " _Anything_ you've worried about… Just sleep on it."

Ikuto nodded gently. "I will."

Her smile was as bright as the sun itself.

And then, his bite back, he smirked;

"Unless you'd like to join me?"

His response was a slap to the head and a breath of laughter.

"Goodnight..." Amu grinned teasingly. " _Ruffian._ "

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : Guess who realised their story plan was an incoherent mess and had to spend forever correcting it? _This_ girl.

But on the plus side it gave me the chance to work in a bunch more adventure / amuto scenes whilst I was sorting it. I'm pretty excited. I've been writing a lot of future amuto scenes. I still feel kinda guilty about the constant slow-burn we've had up til now.

Also (because I can't PM guest reviews to thank you privately) I wanna send some love to Nobody for your reviews on not just this fic, but my other ones too. Thank you _so much!_ Your comments are always _so_ kind - they make my day! Thank you for being so awesome ^^

Til next time ~

~.~.~


	7. Chapter Seven

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

The Hotori mansion was a bustling hive of activity that morning. Before the sun had even shifted beyond the rise of the headland, the household was stirring; the guards were marching; maids were flitting to and fro with every urgency one could muster, for carriages were drawing up towards the house perhaps every half hour. Men - tall men in crisp, white shirts and deep, sea-blue jackets adorned with golden trims - were passing through the halls and their every move seemed to demand recognition. Certainly a never-ceasing wave of bows and curtseys followed them wherever they walked and Tadase, dressed for the first time in many months in his prized naval uniform, could not have been more pleased to welcome them into his home.

Long had the Commander grown tried and loathsome of the sorry state his mansion had been reduced to with its darkened halls and cold hearths (even his parents - Lord and Lady Hotori themselves! - had spent the winter away in some summer haven down by the southern shores) and so there was a definite spring in his step and a rise in his spirit upon seeing his home once more filled with busy souls bowing in reverence as he passed. Tadase almost dared to hope that his former vigour was back and well again, for the months he had spent idle and brooding had no doubt hindered his health. Yet, as he fell back into this familiar role, things almost seemed normal again.

But, more to the point, this was surely a certain sign that his plan was moving - that soon all he most sought would be finally within his reach… Because these men were not just men. They were _his_ men. They were the finest men of the world's finest naval force. And they were all worth their salt without a doubt.

Things were progressing. Tadase's cape swept soundlessly behind him as he paced the floor of the room, listening attentively to the scribe beside them, feeling warm and comforted as the golden rays of dawn finally breached over the crest of the hills and fell softly against his face. The man was talking finance; a dreary topic to say the least, but Tadase and every other admiral stood here today - gathered in this private study that branched from the famous Hotori library - knew that all had to be in order if they were to voyage before the end of the month. And it was here that, at last, Tadase felt as though the tides were starting to turn. The news of the Shining Black's sighting had been good fortune indeed. It had spread across Seiyo as a flame kindled from that single spark, reigniting his fellows' determination, and now Tadase was certain…

He had all that he needed to finally hunt them down. Hunt them down like the dogs they were and watch those blackened sails slip beneath the waves at last.

It would only be a matter of time.

Beside him, the scribe was still blathering on, scrutinising his papers and shifting his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose as he continued, but at least it was no longer about money. He found a tightly-bound scroll from somewhere amidst the mountain of parchments and presented it to his superior;

"Our colonies have been notified, Commander, sir." he said as Tadase inspected the royal seal on the front. "This was sent to every governor abroad this very morning. They are to reward any sailor within their rule who aids our noble search and spare any naval guard they might to escort us through perilous waters."

Tadase nodded. It was more than he had dared to ask of some (unscrupulous, unwelcoming men some of those governors were), but it seemed that they had not dared defy His Majesty himself, for there at the very bottom of the scroll their was stamped in golden wax the King's seal.

"We shall need their assistance," he said. "Our voyage shall pass through Seiyo territories more often than not. The Holy Crown and her crew are near completion, so I'm told. They shall await us among out outposts in the southern isles." And he glanced up, his eyes falling on a faded, sun-stained map that hung upon the wall, isles and outcrops and southern shores spread like smatters of ink upon the sea. "If the Shining Black truly did visit our south that night… Then we may yet come to lean on those colonists after all."

An admiral to Tadase's left opened his mouth - made to make a comment in agreement of this idea - but, jarringly, it was not his voice that came out. Tadase stilled. The room fell silent, all heads turning as the doors were drawn open by well-dressed servants, their eyes lost in a sudden sea of red and gold… And, finally, against the scarlet coats of the royal guard, Tadase saw green.

"If I may, Commander…" Kairi Sanjou's cool, calculated tone echoed almost eerily off the walls, his glasses glinting gold as he came forth to the crowded desk. "I should not rely on any of those scoundrels on our southern shores." He said. "Not if they are as dastardly as I have heard."

Taken aback and at a loss, there was quiet for a moment. Tadase straightened. Kairi looked almost amused at his expression as he glanced back and forth, peering over his shoulder at the two palace guards still stood as statues in the doorway.

And then, ultimately, the spell was broken.

"A royal advisor?" Tadase hummed in amazement. He placed his parchments down, his footsteps twice as loud upon the floorboards as the men around him faded into the background. Indeed, Kairi Sanjou was an advisor as true and loyal as they came… But, as the Commander had learned long ago, his presence was best suited for perhaps the toughest of situations. There was something brutal about him - something brusque, yet simplistic - to each of his decisions. It was like standing before a well-oiled machine, the way his thoughts and theories all seemed to tick over and into place in his head - all very practical and logical, yes…

But most curiously about him was that he seemed to be the only one able to make the most difficult (and often radical) suggestions when no one else could. The kind of suggestions and strategies that the King himself would be afraid to make. That had toppled enemies. The kind of plans that demanded some reasonable sacrifice for a sense of greater good. Perhaps, in this way, Tadase was grateful to have Kairi on their side. Or, so far anyway.

Stood now in the full light of day, the advisor tipped his head in a casual sort of bow. "Indeed, sir." he said. "Sent by order of His Royal Majesty King Tsumugu himself."

Sensing something with gravity was to come, Tadase dismissed the rest of his men and wordlessly they left, each glancing anxiously over their shoulders, treading lightly past the red-coated guards as they left their Commander behind them.

When Tadase looked back, the doors were closing and the formidable, stern façade of the King's advisor was unreadable. Kairi straightened the ruffles at his neck and brushed imaginary dust off the front of his waistcoat - a fine, delicate garment that looked like moss and positively screamed of wealth as he took a seat in an armchair across the room. There was a pause for a moment when, at last, the Commander dared test the waters.

"What in the world," he began slowly - _cautiously_ ; "would require His Royal Majesty to send forth such a renowned aid as messenger?"

Kairi's eye twitched almost unnoticeably beneath his glasses, but in the strong glow of the rising sun Tadase caught it. It was a small victory, if he was concerned. None had ever breached Sanjou's façade before, after all. In all honesty, Tadase hadn't meant it as a jibe (rather curiosity if nothing else), but he watched as the advisor's usually placid expression hardened. He had the distinct impression that the man was counting to ten in his head.

Kairi exhaled, his composure maintained; "His Majesty is currently attending to private negotiations with diplomats from our estranged allies to the east." He said simply. "In light of this latest… ' _Incident'_ involving Her Royal Highness, there is much concern, you understand."

Tadase thought this was something of an understatement at best. Her sudden desertion forgotten, Her Highness _had_ , after all, been a valuable bargaining chip in securing solidarity with their rival empire across the seas. The King had supposed in his desperation that a royal union of sorts would have quelled his adversary's temper - that his daughter would have been the jewel in the crown of their treaty and that all would calm as an ocean breeze at the offering of such a rare and beautiful treasure in exchange for peace… And yet, on reflection, Tadase looked back on this agreement and could not help but feel disgusted. His very being rebelled. Amu was not a bargaining chip. Amu was her own woman and the best hope this country had of prosperity after her father's death. Now that he considered it… How could His Majesty have done such a thing?

Something uncomfortable stirred in his chest and Tadase shoved it wholly from his mind. Kairi was still speaking and he tried to focus as the man continued;

"Quite simply, a new offering must be agreed upon if we are to maintain peace with their King." Kairi went on. Tadase almost bristled at that - ' _an offering'_ \- but couldn't find the gall to interrupt. "I doubt Her Highness will be of much worth to their king now. As I understand it, he prefers some manner of compliance when it comes to a suitable partnership."

" _Actually_ ," the Commander cut in, trying with all his might to quell his rising ire; "it's my understanding that His Majesty would have had to enter renegotiations anyway." He said stiffly. And, when Kairi just looked at him blankly; "Our King revoked the order. Just before I set off to join the initial search. He revoked his promise to send her away… And promised her to me."

Kairi opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Nothing was said for quite some time and, to his immense surprise, Tadase saw all colour leave the man's face.

"Oh dear." the man uttered. His knuckles had grown white against the armrests of his chair. "Oh dear, oh dear..."

Tadase found this astonishing. "His Majesty never told you?"

Kairi's silence spoke volumes.

"Well…" the Commander swallowed. He suddenly felt quite starved of air. "I'm sure this treaty business hasn't been at the fore of his mind for some time." He said, though he wasn't exactly sure why he felt the need to justify the King's behaviour. Perhaps it was due to some long-lived sense of respect, he thought at first, but, after a time, something about that excuse just didn't sit right. Why should it? Why should he have been so quick to jump back into that old line of defence when but a mere moment ago Tadase had been moved to revulsion?

"His Majesty should not have to bow to meet another king's demands." he said quickly, trying in vain to move his train of thought swiftly on. "Our nation is far greater than theirs. If I were His Majesty, I should not worry about them. I should worry about Her Highness. I should worry about her rescue - as it is, I have made these preparations single-handed! We shall be ready to rally our fleet and sail within the month…" And he paused. Kairi had said nothing for quite a while, but his eyes were glinting, his face stoic, and Tadase became uneasy. He lowered his tone - deathly, _dangerously;_

"Unless… His Majesty should think otherwise?"

At this, Kairi's lips twitched. Something of a smile was settling on his face. It was quite unlike anything Tadase had ever seen, but he stayed put, waiting patiently as the man apparently considered.

"I must say, your resolve is as inspiring as ever, Commander." the advisor said. "I am sure that His Majesty would be pleased, indeed. But I did not come here to judge your determination, nor inspect the organisation of your fleet."

The Commander frowned, but simply nodded, prompting him to continue. Kairi coughed lightly before continuing;

"But it has come to light that, in recent months, the naval effort to find Her Highness and detain her captors has been… Well, quite simply, sir, this whole pursuit has been considered largely fruitless." Tadase could not quite believe the bluntless of this, but, then again, that was Kairi - as cool and to-the-point as ever. He stayed silent as Kairi stood, pacing towards the desk; "Which is why there have been further efforts to secure Her Highness in recent months. The plans are not fully secured - as with all new ventures, you understand - but His Majesty has-"

" _What?"_ Tadase blurted it out before he could stop himself, but even as the advisor sent him a stony look for the interruption, he didn't think he'd be able to stay silent if he tried. Something hot and fiery was coursing through his veins - something irrepressible; "What do you _mean_? I was not notified of this, Sanjou! What _kind_ of plans?"

"I am aware." said Kairi. "And, in fact, it is common knowledge amongst those involved that, until the King publicly announces this new scheme before the court, you and your men were _not_ to be notified at all."

Emerald eyes bored into ruby red - a pale, fading ruby red as the sunlight retreated and the heat of the Commander's temper grew pitiful and weak under such a cold and callous blow.

"What is this 'new scheme'?" Tadase whispered, for his chest was now so tight that he didn't think that he would be able to speak any octave louder.

"Ah… That I am afraid I cannot tell you." Kairi sighed. Tadase shot him a furious look, but he paid it no attention. He was circling the desk, his eyes falling over every paper, his fingers trailing against the gleaming, polished wood; "No, I could not possibly break His Majesty's trust. But I thought it only fit to warn you - to, shall we say, spur you on to action given your ceaseless determination towards Her Highness…"

And, just as Tadase was about to snap - was about to launch himself across that very desk and shake the man until he broke and spilled every word he had to offer - the words were taken from his mouth. Because there - with the slightest, subtlest flick of the wrist - Kairi shifted a stack of papers and there - _there!_ \- from the cuff of his sleeve slipped a folded, seal-stamped envelope between the sheets. The glint of his glasses was piercing as he rose his head. His lips were twitching again. He stood up straight and adjusted his collar and paced, head high, towards the blond who stood as though frozen, gaping wordlessly, unable to utter but a sound. Kairi came to a stop beside him.

"The King once believed that you were our greatest hope in this endeavour." Kairi said and his voice had dropped to a hush, uncommonly gentle and uncharacteristically kind. "I do not know if his heart has changed… But I understand yours hasn't."

Tadase wondered, as he had often found himself wondering on countless sleepless nights, if it was in fact true - that the King had after all this time began to lose faith in his most trusted naval Commander. The notion had haunted him. It had tormented him - driven him mad in the dead of night. He had eventually come to assume that it could only have been their last meeting that brought on such a change - that his uncontrolled outburst in the palace had perhaps been seen as a blatant rejection of not only Her Highness, but the monarchs themselves. And, as if to cement this theory, Kairi chose that moment to comment;

"It is just… Well… Last we met, Commander, you appeared unwilling to ever lay eyes on Miss Hinamori again."

Tadase swallowed, unable to shake the feeling that he was being tested for something. Finally, he manage to crack a smile convincing enough for his guest, at least.

"Perhaps." Tadase said. "But, trust me, Sanjou, I have never been one to shirk the law."

"You shall follow her then?" Kairi asked and he didn't even pause for a response, for the answer was already clear. "But, you understand, after the example you've made of yourself that His Majesty worries. What then, Commander? When you find her? Understand that His Majesty would like her back in one piece-"

And Tadase spat before he could catch himself;

" _I would not harm her."_

A pause fell. Tadase forced his mouth shut. His heart was pounding, but he barely felt it. The air in this room was growing too thin again; the flicker of flame in his heart starting to spit;

"No matter how she has wronged us…" he breathed. "She will face her punishment. But not at my hand, sir."

And then, Kairi, for the first time, actually smiled.

"Wonderful."

And, just like that, he was walking past towards the doors - strolling as if on a pleasant summer's day and waving jovially over his shoulder.

"Good luck, Commander. Good luck on your voyage."

Tadase was left, utterly stunned to silence. The advisor's footsteps died away; the sunlight brightened; and there, nestled snugly between two layers of parchment, Tadase's eyes caught the shine of a golden seal glittering teasingly, _tauntingly_ , upon the desk.

~.~.~

By the afternoon of the following day, the Shining Black neared the harbour under the failing light of the setting sun and Ikuto found himself once more thoroughly praising his decision to keep Yaya on-board, for it was all thanks to her that they were headed towards this particular dockside sprawl.

Really, Ikuto had had his doubts about the girl. Sure, she was hardworking and light-hearted and a seemingly boundless source of optimism if nothing else, but that was hardly reason enough to trust her right off the bat, he'd thought. Not to mention that the girl had never sailed in her life! On paper, at least, she should have been utterly useless outside the galley… And yet now, mere _days_ after her arrival on-board the ship, he honestly had no idea where they'd be without her.

It had been early that morning when finally Ikuto realised their new cook's worth - as the sun rose and the ship stirred; as the seaspray glittered under the light of the dawn and all around was bathed in a soft, apricot light; Ikuto stood, pacing restlessly before the windows, glancing furtively at that accursed map upon the desk. Taunting it had sat there through the night, it's riddles and scrawls laid bare beneath the moonlight, and even then in the pale dawn Ikuto had felt that it was no less sinister. It was a mark upon his mind; a dread that even sleep could not stay, for in his dreams he had often grown lost on countless islands where foul things lurked - where the winds howled and the shadows crept and the boom of his stepfather's voice still came ringing in his ears, his laughter cruel and callous…

But then Utau had come waltzing into his cabin carrying an excitable looking Yaya on her arm, her head held high and her gaze triumphant and the Captain had been almost at a loss for words.

" _O! O, Cap'n, sir!"_ Yaya had cried, launching herself towards the desk with a gasp of amazement. " _Is this it?_ The ol' Cap'n's map? Yaya's always wanted to see one in full! Those ol' dogs at the landlord's place got sent bits an' pieces by the man hisself, but, Lord, ne'er a full _copy-!"_

And all the while Utau had stood behind her, looking on almost smugly, drinking in the sight of her brother's expression as the realisation slowly dawned upon him. His heart quickening - a surge of adrenaline rushing through his veins - Ikuto paced towards the desk and looked the young cook in the eye. In his head, the unbearable holler of the old Captain's voice suddenly ceased - stopped in its tracks as he whispered;

"Can you read it?"

Yaya beamed.

"But o' _course!"_

He would have to reward that young girl immensely, Ikuto reminded himself, for it had been simply astounding - the way she studied every marking; every inked coast; every unfathomable ideogram and went on without missing a beat:

"Most o' these're marked for supplies," Yaya had said, running the tip of her finger over the various different symbols; "Supplies an' nearby shipping rounds, Yaya would say. O' course most of 'em are useless now. Old this bit o' scrawl must be, Cap'n - His Maj'sty's laid claim to most o' these isles of late, ya see?" - And she'd then proceeded to snatch up a fresh quill from the edge of the desk and blotted out each and every squiggle of land that would be of no use to them. - "The sea is shrinking, sure enough, sire," Yaya murmured; "an' Kazuomi's kingdom has dwindled, 'tis true. His Maj'sty has long been locked in a race for riches with our rivals o'er the ocean…"

And, when she straightened and set down her quill, there were barely a dozen or so islands left marked for them to read, yet there, stood bold against the faded parchment, were circled seven lands - seven circling the dotted line of the equator and by far the fewest in number. Ikuto and Utau edged forwards curiously. Yaya bowed graciously.

"Yaya thinks ya oughta be lookin' about these waters, if ya don't mind my sayin' so, Cap'n!" she had said; "This group here - these isles. All marked with the seal o' gold, they are, an' _notorious_ for ol' pirate tales!"

And so it was. Seven isles. Seven safehouses… And Ikuto couldn't help but think that, had this map been unavailable to them, they would have made for his stepfather the perfect refuge from the world.

Needless to say, Ikuto had been in a thoroughly good mood since making sense of his stepfather's map. In fact, the entirety of the crew were ready and raring to go, but, quite recently it had begun to nag at the Captain's mind that, being set on this seaward endeavour for such an undefined length of time, it would only be so long before they were forced to return to the degrading act of pirating; of preying upon merchant ships that crossed their path; being forced to fire upon innocent men and sullying their ships with their steps all for their own preservation. As it was, their supply of citrus fruit had been steadily waning for weeks now and Ikuto was set on ensuring that they had food and supplies aplenty if only to stave off the inevitable just that _little_ bit longer, for, though it had somehow become his way of life, he did not pleasure in piracy. Given his way, he would have it that his men procure their supplies as legally as they could, but, usually, this was not to be.

Quite thankfully, having a former tavern girl aboard had further privileges. Yaya, as it turned out, had a good head for trade and an outstanding knowledge of Seiyo itself and so when she had entered his cabin that morning proclaiming proudly that she knew of a certain place that wouldn't look twice at the likes of them, Ikuto had been easily swayed into changing course and following her navigations to this little town, tucked away in a cove on the coast of a nearby archipelago.

And so here, as the sun finally set and the last of the cargo was loaded, Ikuto found himself (though, for the life of him, he couldn't explain just _how_ he'd been persuaded here in the first place) sat at a table in possibly one of the roughest, sleaziest taverns he'd ever seen in his life.

It was fair to say that, no matter where you had come from, the shores of Seiyo's southern isles were perhaps the closest you could get to the utter lawlessness of pirate life without actually committing yourself. A hive of wretched scum and debauchery, such villainy could not be seen anywhere else on earth save for only those true buccan havens that still lingered some hundreds of leagues further south, clinging on to existence as creepers to stone, digging the last of their desperate claws into the dirt and sinking into that deep, dark pit of impropriety on which they thrived. They spent their days sat in the sun, laid spread-eagled on the sand surrounded by broken bottles. They gambled in ramshackle, dilapidated little huts half-falling from the mountainside and wasted the last of their wares on the company of disease-ridden strumpets.

A man who wandered any corsair country from east to west would probably find himself cornered and demanded to turn out his pockets at knife-point perhaps every half mile and so it remained truly astonishing that such a place as this - an official colony of His Majesty the King and a prolific port town dating all the way back to the very founding years of Seiyo nonetheless! - so struck the pirates with that heavy sense of familiarity as they made their way through the streets that evening.

The waterfront was lined with brigs and schooners and little sloops of every kind - all sporting flags with the crest of the King, bobbing up and down lazily amongst the quays as they awaited their less than faithful crews. But they were, for the most part, old and tired-looking vessels. A tilted spar jutted out here; a few sail patches there; up and down the line of the docks figureheads stared towards the street, but their faces were worn by the waves and their features were weathered so that they merely stared blankly ahead, formless and shapeless; perfectly, yet eerily smoothed.

But it had to be said that even these sorry crafts were in better shape than the men that sailed them. Really, if Ikuto had not charted their course himself, he would have probably thought that they had indeed turned up at some pirate stronghold. During the short time it had taken he and his small group to wander towards this nearby tavern, he had seen quite enough drunken degeneracy to last him the night. Dim-witted men were laughing and shouting in the street, staggering with bottles in their hands. Homeless folk lay passed out cold in the gutter reeking of rum. Harlots stood at every street corner, winking at anything that passed, ruffling their skirts and flashing teases of stocking when they caught an eye and, if he was being honest, Ikuto was starting to think that it might have been best for him to command that his crew had left immediately upon purchasing their provisions.

It had not taken his men long to procure the supplies that they needed. With a fair bit of gold that they had dredged up from some deep, long-forgotten corner of the hold (it appeared that even the avaricious Kazuomi Ichinomiya had not been able to carry _all_ of his spoils that night he had abandoned them and so earlier that day their boatswain had been absolutely _jumping_ with glee to find a small, oilskin pouch filled with coin, expertly concealed and tucked away between the slats of one of the lower companionways) and an even fairer bit of bargaining, they had managed to more or less fill their hull with food and drink to last them perhaps two to three months at most and they were safe in the knowledge that they had other necessities such as line and tarp to carry out any necessary repairs should the occasion arise. Far more tricky it had been to replenish their magazine. The men of this town were solely merchant sailors, it seemed, and the only thing that really set this place aside from a true buccan refuge was the lack of armaments at their disposal. Powder and lead and shot and cannonballs… They needed them all (especially if they were to believe that Kazuomi was commanding a small fleet), yet it had seemed almost impossible to ask around for such things. The people here were poor and even more poorly civilised, sure enough… But they did not take well to the sight of strangers seeking military-grade weaponry.

In the end, Yaya had somehow managed to sweet-talk a shopkeeper and had inexplicably come away with not one, but an entire _list_ of local men who would discreetly provide for them if they paid well enough. Ikuto had been incredibly impressed. And Kukai was still baffled.

"She's _mental!"_ he'd exclaimed, stood wide-eyed before the Captain's desk, shaking his rusty-coloured head and uttering in awe; "You should'a seen her! Went right up to the guy an' just pulled him into a corner, whisperin' away in his ear - mad eyes an' everythin'! Couldn't tell if the poor sod were enamoured or terrified!"

And all the while Yaya had stood triumphantly in the background, her arms folded across her chest, her nose stuck up high and her eyes sparkling; "Just leave it to Yaya!"

Honestly, Ikuto pondered, what strange company he kept.

But he could do little about that now, he resigned as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wishing as he had not done for months to simply slip unseen into the shadows; to merge into the background; to step once more into the dull undertones of this dreary, exhausting life and to never be seen again, for here in this crowded tavern he suddenly felt more on edge than he had in weeks.

The place was fit to bursting. Left and right and just about everywhere in-between men were dancing, hollering, clanking huge tankards of ale together and downing them all in one fell swoop before either passing out or banging on the bar for another. The noise was deafening. The furniture jumped with the beat of the off-key band on the balcony above. The air was hot and thick with pipe smoke so suffocatingly stifling that his head was starting to spin. Perhaps he was already drunk off the fumes from the ale, Ikuto thought drily. If he did even get drunk that night, it wouldn't be from much else. Kukai had slammed a bottle of spirit before him not ten minutes ago and he hadn't touched it. He didn't want to. Across the room he saw a particularly busty barmaid cast an already hammered sailor a cheeky wink and pour half the contents of a bottle of whiskey down the man's throat. Ikuto's stomach turned. He pushed the bottle away from him.

He couldn't deny it. Ikuto had never liked to drink and, even if this _had_ been his preferred way of an evening, he didn't think he could have settled. He thought he'd seen a glimpse of his own face in one of the windows earlier, but they'd passed by too quickly and in his haste he had just shrugged half-heartedly and reassured himself that it had been nothing but a reflection in the setting sun - a mirror image cast in gold and glass in a shopkeep front… But now… Well, it had set him on edge and now Ikuto couldn't help but internally squirm as he sat here, tucked up in this shadowy corner away from the crowd, his skin bristling, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Everywhere he looked he feared he might espy some undefined figure watching him from the darkness - that at any moment some man might cry his name and out of nowhere the firm hand of the law would be upon him, dragging him bodily back to that dirty little cell in which he had lost all hope all those months ago, forcing him to stare down the hangman's noose at last, meeting his very end...

Or was that figure undefined? Was it faceless? Or was it tall? Was it bulky? Was it thick-headed and riddled with muscle and brutish beyond description? Would it take him back to that fated cell or would it take him by the scruff of the neck - have him writhing in its dirty grasp; crying out in a young, shrill voice; dumping him with a resounding ' _thunk!'_ in the shadow of the Captain's cabin and leaving him unto his fate…

Unaware of himself, Ikuto shivered, quaking visibly. His entire body became wracked with chills. What if they were watching him? Watching him as they had done all that time? As they had done for ten _long_ years of his life..?

And, even though he had already been well aware of the dangers posed to him by the long arm of the law, he was suddenly much more uneasy. And with good reason! He had heard there was a hefty price upon his head. He kept his gaze down. Ikuto almost thought to himself then that he might've preferred if this _was_ some raunchy pirate isle. At least then the likes of the navy would have been nowhere in sight.

But, as far as he could see, there were no naval men here. Not tonight, anyway. No, just he and his men and a plethora of drunken sailors all wasting away the night with booze and cards and cheap cigars until it could be said for certain that this was most definitely a dank, dishonourable place to be even for the likes of a pirate. At least they all blended in fairly well with the locals here. (Or, at least, those who had decided to venture on this night out did - Utau and Yaya, for example, and perhaps ten other men had opted to remain behind to guard their ship.) Dressed in drab, dark cloaks and keeping their heads all close to the bar, they were indistinguishable from the regular clientele.

Ikuto pulled his oversized tricorn lower across his forehead, revelling in the shadow that fell across his face and expertly shifting so that the gleaming hilt of his pistol lay buried beneath the fall of his coat. Neither of them fit him very well, it was true. They were merely old things that had been dug up from the hold, but they concealed his figure so perfectly that Ikuto couldn't bring himself to fault them. Besides, if he had come here as himself tonight - if any of these reckless men so much as caught _sight_ of blue or golden stitch or the sharp, white diamond against his brow… Well, the giveaway would have been too much, but, really, Ikuto was starting to think that he could have swung in through the window with Her Royal Highness draped over his shoulder and no one would have noticed. Currently there was a bar brawl of epic proportions spilling out onto the street, attracting sailors from every tavern within the nearest mile, and so not even _Ikuto_ noticed Kukai march over with Amu in tow, scowling as he scrutinised the still-full bottle of brandy in front of him.

"'Sup with _you?"_ Kukai piped up, nodding at the untouched bottle and placing down no less than _three_ tankards of undisclosed contents onto the table between them. "Come on, Cap'n! Drink up, drink up! Last proper bevvy an' all that before we set off in the mornin'!"

"Keep your voice down, Kukai." was all Ikuto said. He glared distastefully at the selection of drinks and shifted again in his seat. The last thing he needed was word of an unfamiliar Captain travelling around. Chances were he'd end up inundated with intoxicated shiphands all begging him for work. "At this rate you'll be too drunk to sail in the morning."

Kukai laughed then, loud and clear even over the growing din, and selected one of the tankards, tipping back his head and drinking deeply. He offered one to Amu who had up until that point been standing somewhat awkwardly beside them. She shook her head quickly, smiling weakly as she watched him shrug and down at a least half of his beverage in one swig. Ikuto bit back an amused grin. She looked so out of place. She had, of course, disguised herself before setting foot from the ship… But, quite by accident, it turned out that her choice of dress had only gained her more attention than any of them would have liked.

The women that occupied this little town were… Well, there was no other way to say it - the women of this place were, for the most part, common harlots. Cheap and diseased and easy enough for a man with enough coin. The only other females they'd seen had been a couple of housewives in the the market square and even _they_ had been more scantily dressed than Amu was that night. Her skirt was full; her dress was black and uninviting; her sleeves went down to her elbows and from there stayed covered under copious white frills. She had secured her distinctive pastel pink locks in a tight, winding bun and covered it beneath the hood of her cloak and, all in all, it wasn't a welcoming outward appearance to these unruly men who seemed to view the fairer sex as nothing more than wandering goods for them to browse at leisure. A few of them had been utterly turned away at the sight of Amu as she tip-toed through the town.

But, then again, there were plenty more who seemed to view it as a challenge. It made Ikuto's blood boil. It made him seethe the way they leered at her; hissed at her; the way their lecherous, greedy little stares positively lit up when she passed them by as if she were some sort of puzzle for them to crack - a prude for them to pervert. He'd heard them comment on her purity; heard them contemplate her age; they questioned whether she was a maid in mourning clad in black and whether they might persuade her to drink enough grog to discover what lay beneath her puffy dress and Ikuto was beginning to fear that he might accidentally end up drawing attention unto _himself_ if they carried on. If he didn't watch his temper that night, he could very well end up in some epic brawl himself. Even at that very moment a skinny, starved-looking man with a salacious glint in his eye swaggered passed and had the balls to stop and leer at the low curve of her neckline, lingering at the way her bodice hugged her breast, and it took Ikuto every ounce of strength to refrain from tackling the man across the table.

His glare was enough though. One deadly glower and the scrawny man quailed visibly. He scampered off with his tail between his legs and Ikuto revelled in his victory. Beside him, Amu didn't seem to have noticed. She was still standing at the edge of the table, glancing over her shoulders, twiddling her dainty fingers and biting her lip in thought. He could just _see_ the apprehension written all over her face. She felt just as exposed and vulnerable as he did, he realised. Whilst Kukai was too engrossed in his mug of ale, Ikuto reached out and took Amu's hand beneath the table. He felt her stiffen - caught her sharp intake of breath - but he ran his thumb across her palm and squeezed it as he pulled her to sit on the bench beside him. Gratefully, she did. Ikuto sidled closer to her. Perhaps the disgusting, dim-witted degenerates of this bar would back off upon seeing her beside another man.

Presently, Kukai slammed his now-empty tankard upon the table and sighed in satisfaction. " _Whew_ , wish me luck, Cap'n!" He said, wiping his lip with the back of his hand. "I got a game set up with a bunch o' lads upstairs. Bet I can make a fine few pennies outta this one, ya reckon?"

Ikuto groaned audibly. Amu shook her head. "Honestly," she said; "the moment you set foot ashore you're already gambling?"

It had been a common article upon Ikuto's takeover of the Shining Black that gambling and games of chance were once more allowed (for Kazuomi had expressly forbidden anything of the sort under his reign), but, in truth, it made little difference. Clothes and food and coin to the value of one common salary could be gambled freely as long as such things came from a man's own personal shares, but the value of those things were often low and it was not often that they had the opportunity to stand at winning (or losing) truly great quantities of gold for themselves. So, really, neither of them should have been surprised that Kukai was jumping at the chance to play cards in a bar, grinning from ear-to-ear, practically dancing on the spot as he said;

"I'll come back a rich man, don't you worry, ma'am!" He said, tipping his hat and bowing exaggeratedly. His cheeks were rosy - his eyes positively _glowing_ with mischief. "All in an evenin's work!"

And with that he turned on his heel, swiping up Ikuto's untouched brandy and swinging the bottle in his grasp. They watched as he began to shuffle off into the crowd, dodging brawling men, sidling casually past staggering sailors-

" _Oh, an' Cap'n!"_ He called, turning back to grin at them over his shoulder as he walked away. "Lighten up! _Relax!"_ And he pointed to the still-full tankards on the table and mimed taking a gigantic swig; "Drink up!"

And then he was off again, laughing loudly. He stumbled through the growing crowd, spilling drinks, pushing past tables, only pausing to grumble and curse at some old, hunched fellow in his way - a man, bent at the waist and draped in a black cloak and… Astonishingly…

" _AGH!"_ Kukai's cries could probably be heard throughout the entire tavern. An almighty scuffle could be heard and a deafening squawk-

Ikuto had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing aloud as he watched the old man try and restrain a gigantic, black bird - a raven, he guessed - from launching itself at the pirate's face. Kukai ducked, knocking over several bottle on a nearby table and barrelling into countless customers as he desperately tried to make his escape, yelling; " _Tha' idiot's pet nearly pecked me eyes out!"_ In the background, feathers were flying, the bird was shrieking… And, at this point, Ikuto could hardly contain himself. He heard Amu sigh, amused, as he descended into cruel laughter.

"And here I thought he was good with birds." Amu muttered, so utterly deadpanned that it only made the pirate beside her chuckle more. "You'd have thought Daichi would've put in a good word for him... Bridged the gap between man and beast, you know?"

Ikuto shook his head, his shoulders still shaking; "He and Daichi," he began teasingly, his voice but a low drawl beneath the clamour of the surrounding bar; "share roughly the same level of intelligence. I don't doubt that raven's got a fair few brain cells on him."

Amu's laugh was bright and airy - as brilliant and crystal clear as a newly-formed spring - even here in the gloom of the tavern; pure and lighthearted amidst the dim light and the sordid haze of pipesmoke; "Does he have enough to win a card game?" she jested. "And here I thought he was coming back rich beyond his wildest dreams."

Ikuto let out something similar to a snort. "Kukai can't win a card game when he's _sober_." he added in. "He'll be upside-down over the bar singing 'Drunken Sailor' by morning."

Amu scoffed and muttered, sarcastic; "Well ' _Yo-ho-ho'_."

And Ikuto smirked, finally raising one of the still-full tankards to his lips; "' _And a bottle of rum'_."

Ikuto grimaced almost immediately upon his first mouthful of drink that night. It tasted like something that had been mixed. If this was what Kukai had been fuelling on all evening then, forget the morning! He'd be out like a light in a couple of _hours._ He was sure there had been a mixup at the bar and so, quite thankfully, he shoved it away from him, trying to ignore Amu's sniggers as she watched his sour expression.

"So cruel," he commented drily. A smirk spread across his lips as he watched her try to stifle her laughter. "How unladylike."

Amu just grimaced. "Please," she muttered, casting her gaze warily about the tavern. "I don't really think that matters here. Take a look around."

Ikuto didn't need to. At that moment they could hear a strumpet cackling like a witch only a few tables over; across the room a man was passed out cold, his head nestled in his woman's skirts; and, much to his displeasure, Ikuto saw a group of men huddled close together, sneaking lecherous glances in Amu's direction. He shifted himself closer towards her and, satisfyingly, one of them quickly looked away. Ikuto smirked and, overcome by some powerful, protective sort of urge, slung an arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his chest.

Almost instantly, Amu began to squeak;

" _I-Ikuto!_ Wha-What are you-?"

" _Sssh..."_ Ikuto's breath fanned faintly across her cheek and it was all she could do to repress the shiver of excitement that swept up her spine. "You wanted to lay low... No one'll interrupt a gentleman and his lady like this, now will they?"

Amu opened her mouth as if to make some sort of convincing argument, but, humiliatingly, she had none. Positively pink in the face, she shut it quickly and somewhat reluctantly allowed herself to settle into the crook of his arm, her side flush against his. His heart was beating steadily beneath his chest. She could feel it. She could feel it's ceaseless ' _thu-bump, thu-bump, thu-bump'_ , constant and comforting against her side and her cheeks flushed all the more. A warm tingle swept over her skin. Her face was hot - so hot that she almost regretted bundling up in such a heavy disguise. Looking away if only to cover her blush, she suddenly became quite acutely aware of the many other couples dotted about the room. There were tens of them amongst the crowd - mostly made up of heavily make-up'd wenches in bright-coloured gowns all hanging off the arms of men too drunk to stand. Those who truly couldn't keep to their own two feet were collapsed on benches or half-leant up against the walls, too busy 'associating' with each other to pay any heed to those around them. She was sure that one couple beside the bar had already gotten into each other's clothes. It was honestly quite sickening…

"At least _you're_ not paying for me." Amu muttered absently, casting a judgemental glance at the brazen displays of affection between a strumpet and sailor only a couple of tables away from them. The woman's neck was marked so fiercely - welts blooming so furiously pink and purple beneath her skin - that at first Amu thought she was diseased. It reminded her more of a bout of scurvy than a manic love-bite.

So immersed in this observation, it was only when Amu felt the man beside her start to shake again that she realised she'd spoken aloud. She clapped a hand across her mouth immediately, blush pink flushing rapidly into rosy red. Ikuto broke out into full-blown laughter at the sight of her humiliation. Honestly, her reactions were _priceless_! She was so easily swayed by emotion - always so flushed, whether by fury or fear; whether flustered… Her cheeks reminded him of blooming petals - so slight and silky soft; shifting and darkening in pinks and reds of every shade. Her skin was like blossom; her hair carnation; her lips were the darkest, most delectable rosy hues he had ever seen.

But Ikuto knew that her façade could be deceiving. Ikuto knew - _remembered_ even - the ferocity that stirred within. He knew of the blazing heat that burned in golden eyes and so, in his mind, Amu was no mere bloom - no simple, sweet fair-flower. She was fiery and bold and beautiful, but sensitive and kind-hearted - as a red rose with shining thorns.

Presently, Amu's little statement echoed once more in his mind. Yes, they were set aside from all these other couples. He didn't think he'd seen any other honest women in this bar tonight besides her and he couldn't deny that he felt his chest swell oh-so slightly with pride at the notion, for not only was their affection genuine, but priceless too. Ikuto glanced in the direction of the bar (well, ' _bar'_ \- it was more like a glorified stack of various kegs, full to the brim with ales and beers and more spirits than he could name) and saw one or two of his own men being propositioned by a group of scantily-dressed strumpets, passing around shots he was sure had no doubt been adulterated beforehand. The women were tittering - cackling more like witches than the coy, enchanting ladies they pretended to be - and their simpers were sickening as they hitched up their skirts, subtly sliding their hems up just that little bit higher, flashing just enough garter to get their attention. The men were enamoured. They looked as though they were floating - their minds carried off on some intoxicating current - as they fell under the strumpet's spell. Ikuto supposed their mind was playing tricks on them. He supposed that they were under the influence of some charm akin to siren's song and truly that was what he saw as he watched them cave, for their lips were the colour of blood; their eyes flashing amidst eyeshadow shimmering as scales; their skirts bright and bold and psychedelic like the poison hues of deadly creatures that dwelt in the tropics further south… These men must have been thoroughly deprived to be enticed to enchantment so pitifully easily.

But, as he watched - as he criticised and wondered and marvelled at the scenes that played out all around him… Ikuto suddenly had a rather devious thought.

Across the room, one of the harlots flashed her skirts again. Ikuto frowned. He turned away from the sight of such blatant debauchery, his eyebrow raised, his lip twitching as he scrutinised the woman sat beside him. After a moment, a roguish smirk spread across his lips.

Amu felt his gaze upon her immediately. She stiffened, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. She hiked her cloak back over her shoulders for the upteenth time that night and frowned up at the mischievous-looking buccan. There was still a playful gleam in his eyes that made her feel thoroughly scandalised.

"W-What?"

Ikuto did not respond immediately. Something unreadable passed across his face. He was apparently debating the best reply in his head, his eyes unmoving, his smirk unchanging. A few seconds ticked by during which Amu huffed and tried to ignore that piercing gaze… And then, out of nowhere, he whispered;

" _You'd look good in a garter."_

Amu spluttered, cheeks burning, choking on her own saliva; " _W-W-What?"_ Ikuto's shoulders were shaking again, his chest rumbling. She threw his arm off her shoulders and hissed; " _I-Ikuto!_ Wha-What are you _saying?"_

He purred, closing the gap between them once again and snaking his arm round her waist; "I'm just _saying_ , Amu, _dear_ -"

She wriggled out of his grasp. "And here I thought you said you were a gentlemen!" she grumbled. "Besides," Amu grimaced, sweeping her eyes over the dreary drinking hall; "Haven't you seen enough skin tonight as it is?"

Ikuto rolled his eyes, his lips twitching again in amusement. Amu felt the quickening of his heart as he drew her once again against his chest; felt the slight of his breath; she inhaled sharply as his lips trailed oh-so-subtly against her cheek in the faintest ghost of a kiss.

"I'm not looking at _their_ skin," Ikuto breathed, his free hand tracing the gentle curve of her jawline in a way that made her heartbeat race, yet would probably sent it pounding if she truly knew the images that surfaced in his memory then. Often he would still receive flashbacks - little hint and flickers of memory. He would find images leaping unbidden in his mind of platinum skin as smooth as silk; of the delicate curve of dainty thighs; and the blush of strawberry pink and Ikuto could not deny that all of a sudden his thoughts and desires became utterly carnal in nature so that often he would have to stop himself - have to slap himself back into the present - and remind himself that his Amu was by far more than an object for him to lust upon.

Of course, it was an entirely natural desire, Ikuto reminded himself, but that was not the point. He was the _Captain_ , for God's sake - a Captain and a gentleman nonetheless - and Amu was no swooning maiden by any means, but, still, she was fair and pure and utterly breathtaking… And she deserved someone better. And Ikuto knew that even if he never _would_ be worthy of such a girl, he would at the very least _pretend_ to be the sort of man she deserved - the sort of man who could control his desires at will.

Yet always it would be some time before he could think straight again… Always it would be a time before he could calm the race of his pulse or the catch of his breath - much less look the pinkette in the eye. Even now as he felt her breathing labour beneath his touch, her skin flushing beneath his fingertips, he was ashamed to say that he had to fight to keep his thoughts wholly pure - had to curse his weak-willed body as he felt his knees grow fit to buckle. It was a good thing he was sitting down. Perhaps this was why women were deemed unlucky aboard a sailor's ship… But for the world he would not change it.

Ikuto swallowed, his throat dry and tight, taking deep and steady breaths as he buried his nose in her hair, growing weak under her spell. "I'm sorry, Amu…" Ikuto began in such an earnest, tender tone that the atmosphere thoroughly changed. Amu blinked up at him, big golden eyes flashing in the candlelight, and, whether knowingly or not, all ire faded away at the sincerity of his voice. Ikuto caught the questioning flicker in her gaze. He sighed. "It's been a while since I've said it…"

Amu's heart fluttered. Her stomach flipped. The former princess shifted slightly in his grasp and parted her lips, but found herself silenced in anticipation, speechless, her heart in her mouth as Ikuto gently took a curl that had freed itself from her bun and absently twirled it about his fingers. He pressed his lips to her forehead. The intimacy sent shivers through her spine.

"What… What are you talking about?"

There was a pause. Another sigh. "I've been... " Ikuto's gaze grew distant as he struggled to find the words. She watched him curiously, at a loss until; "Distracted? Obsessive? I've spent my time preoccupied these past few weeks… And so utterly blind to everything you've done for me."

Amu blinked. Once, twice - three times before pulling away, her mouth open, but no words came out. They welled up in her chest and raced to her lips only to die on her tongue so that, in the end, she could only stammer; "D-Don't-Don't be ridiculous! Besides…" - a small hint of a smile played upon her lips. In her head there played out images of far-away shores and the sun on the sand and the blissful glow of the moon on the water as a string of symphonies she'd never heard wove about the evening breeze before her. In her mind, she indulged in fantasies of a life of peace where naught but a world of boundless freedom stretched as far as the sea itself and, reveling in this world, she smiled fondly;

"In the end…" Amu said; "It'll all be worth it."

Ikuto didn't usually think too much of this, but here, caught up under the influence of Amu's unwavering optimism, a rare, soft smile dawned upon his face.

"When this is done," he whispered; "you and I will have all the time in the world."

And then, as if by a change of the wind, the atmosphere changed. She felt a hand slide over her hip. Another brushed against her thigh. She held her breath and in the back of her mind she faintly realised that if anyone were to look over at them now, no would would _dare_ interrupt this gentleman and his lady as Ikuto swept his lips down the side of her neck. Amu felt him smirk against her skin;

"But, until then…" His tone was low, the rumble of his voice tugging at something in her chest Perhaps I can make it up to you..."

Seductive. Teasing. Temptingly, Ikuto's voice sent her heartbeat into a frenzy - sent her train of thought straight down into the gutter to roll about with the drunks - and yet, for a second, she didn't care. For a second she felt some new pull in her chest; an almighty tug in her gut; felt a rush of unbidden excitement and, as if to seal it as a promise, Amu dove; wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him closer to her chest, leaning in for a sweet, subtle kiss…

And then she stopped.

Something had changed. Amu froze as if met by some invisible barrier and backed away. Ikuto watched a variety of unreadable emotions pass over her face, but frustratingly he couldn't name a single one. Ikuto was about to look concerned when she choked;

"I… I-I think I need _air."_

And Ikuto, completely dumbfounded, could do little more than watch as she fled from the table, tearing herself from his grasp and weaving her way across the tavern. His heart fell. A stirring of bitter, self-loathing unsettled his stomach. Ikuto sat and scowled openly as, just at that moment - as he was resigning himself to once more slipping into the shadows and scolding himself in silence - none other than Kukai appeared through the thick, heavy cloud of smoke and sidled over to the table. He passed Amu briefly as she came. She didn't even stop to acknowledge him.

"Man," Kukai said once he'd taken his seat. He took a swig from the bottle in his hand and slammed it back down onto the table. "What's got her so pissed?"

Ikuto sent him such a fearsome glower that any other man would have recoiled on the spot, but, much to the Captain's dismay, Kukai just laughed aloud.

"Ah, _man!"_ he guffawed, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "What d'ya do?"

"Come back a rich man?" Ikuto snapped, deliberately trying to sway the topic of conversation. Fortunately, it seemed to work.

"Fine," Kukai said; " _don't_ tell. An', I'll have you know, Ikuto, I'm just a dab hand at cards as I ever was! That fella _hustled_ me! But I'll win big next time, Cap'n, don't you worry!"

Ikuto just rolled his eyes. "I'm not." he said flatly and he averted his gaze away from this crewmate. In the background, he heard the young pirate sigh and take a gulp of his drink and they stayed this way for some time - submerged in an uncomfortable, tense sort of silence whilst the calamity of the bar raged on all around them. When Ikuto turned away, Kukai's eyes were boring in to him, his brows drawn tight together - looking to be concentrating pretty hard for a guy with no brains, Ikuto mused absently. He glanced at the Captain. Then off towards the bar. Finally, he sighed;

"Ah, it can't've been _that_ bad, right?" And, when Ikuto raised an eyebrow in question; "Whatever ya said to _Amu._ "

At this, Ikuto at last cracked something of a smile. He chuckled half-heartedly, though he didn't really know why. Perhaps, just this once, it was better to give Kukai the benefit of the doubt. "Sure," he replied unconvincingly, but it was enough to light up the young pirate's face.

"That's the spirit!" Kukai beamed. "Now come _on_ , ya stick in the mud! Drink up! Make the most o' the night while it's young!" He picked up his bottle of grog and held it aloft; "Cheers, Cap'n!"

And, reluctantly, Ikuto reached for his drink. "Whatever, Souma."

~.~.~

However, as the night wore on, the Captain almost began to regret taking Kukai's advice because, really, he realised now that it had all been just a ploy on that idiot's part to get himself as drunk as possible. Kukai had absolutely no sense of self-restraint when it came to any sort of occasion. Even now the young pirate was singing off-key for all to hear, sloshing brandy on the tables as he jigged on a makeshift stage;

" _Farewell and adieu to you, foreign ladies!_

 _Farewell and adieu, ladies abroad!_

 _For we've received orders,_

 _for-to sail to old Seiyo,_

 _and we may ne'er see you fair ladies again-!"_

Ikuto watched from afar, resisting the urge to plug his fingers in his ears, for it was a wonder that his pirate friend (or any of them, in fact) could hold a tune, but at least the mood was light. The lanterns glowed in a soft, warm light. A fiddler was playing; boots were stomping; the strumpets were clapping and the sailors were singing, raising their drinks as Kukai burned on;

" _Let ev'ry man drink his full glass!  
For we'll drink and be jolly, _

_and drown melancholy,_

 _wi' a health to each jovial an' true-hearted soul-!"_

And, absently, Ikuto took a half-hearted drink from a dusty-looking bottle of liquor and scowled at the mass of people gathered about the bar. His head was starting to throb in-time with the constant beat. He eyed up the line of empty bottles and tankards beside him and almost contemplated throwing one into the rabble, but he caught himself just in time. He knew he was just irrationally out of sorts. He _knew_ he was just a- What was it Kukai had called him? A 'miserable old dog' that oughta lighten up? Well, something like that, anyway, and for a while he had _sort_ of tried. He'd drank when instructed and laughed with a couple of crew mates, but, though the beat was distracting and the drinks were flowing, Ikuto's mind was wandering - wandering back to the heat of soft skin and the hush of hitched breath; his spine was tingling; his blood surging…

And then something unpleasant resurfaced, nagging away at the back of his mind.

' _I am a gentleman,_ ' he told himself and, just for a moment, he thought perhaps that it wasn't the memory of Amu's touch that had his blood so hot because under the heavy, intoxicating scent of smoke and liquor he felt his resolve begin to crack, wavering, giving in to that little voice in the back of his head that only said; ' _But you're a_ pirate _-'_

' _I am a_ gentleman _.'_ he reiterated, firmer now, and sent a furious glance at his fellow crewmate who was still dancing idiotically on the bar, now locked in a rendition of an old sea-song probably too buccan-worthy to be sharing with the local throng. - (" _An' but one man of her crew alive; What put to sea with seventy-five-!"_ ) - He should have known better than to accept anything Kukai gave him to drink. When he was fourteen, the two of them had raided the hold and shared something so inexplicably strong that he'd blacked out almost a whole week of his memory and his stepfather had swung him from the bowsprit for the inconvenience.

Back in the present, Ikuto sighed heavily. He'd been meaning to find her - had been searching the crowd for her all night to no avail - if only to somehow settle that sense of guilt that still stirred away in his gut, for he couldn't brush the nagging doubt that he'd done something out of line - was worried that he'd in some way upset her - but Amu had disappeared like a breath of fog. He scanned the tavern. His men were singing and laughing and taking turns to share sea-songs with the sailors; candles were flickering; booze was flowing; a clamor rose beside the bar just as his gaze swept over it and Kukai stopped in his tracks, though the tune was carried on by several others, and clumsily staggered back to the floor looking as though he could barely stand. Ikuto saw him scamper away with a group of men he didn't recognise and take a seat at a rounded table in the corner. Ah, another card game then, he realised. Well, that would keep that fool busy for the rest of the evening, but he was soon distracted. His attention was caught by a string of drunken laughter and he watched as a rosy-cheeked couple, practically tripping in each others' arms, scampered hurriedly up the stairs when he remembered…

' _Air.'_

' _Air'_ , Amu had said. He thought he'd seen open shutters and a little row of chamber windows up on the first floor as he'd passed the building through town. Where else could a lady find respite in such a place?

Ikuto took one last look at the bottle in his hand. He emptied the thing in one go - far too wrapped up in the music and the memory and the buzz beginning to wash through his veins to care that the foul liquid stung his throat or made his vision fuzzy - and pushed his way through the crowd.

He found her on a balcony upstairs - in one of the disused bedrooms that might have been quite homey once, filled with warm candlelight and the scent of fresh lavender judging by the dried-up remains in the vase on the vanity, but had since fallen into a miserable state of disrepair, reduced to nothing more than a temporary workspace for the wenches that frequented the bar. But the night was cool and the air refreshing, laced with the tang of salt and the crisp, fresh fragrance of the inland breeze, and so Ikuto found the awkward walk past the wenches' chambers more than worth it as he caught that smudge of pink illuminated against the darkened sky. Amu leant on the balcony railing, overlooking the sprawl of the town and the gleam of the moon on the distant sea; her hood was down, her hair dancing gently about her cheeks, and her expression seemed so serene that he almost regretted disturbing her.

"You shouldn't be alone up here," Ikuto began, more confidently than he felt. He saw Amu jump slightly on hearing his voice, blinking as though pulled from her own little world. "There's plenty of unsavoury characters about." And a grin spread across his lips; "Remember where we are, Your Highness."

There must have been something funny in his expression, or maybe it was the teasing lilt in his tone because, inexplicably, Amu barely stifled a burst of laughter. Ikuto's smile widened in amusement as he watched her clamp a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking, and only then did he notice;

"Amu, have you been drinking?"

The former princess blinked and looked down at her feet. There was a small bottle of rum discarded on the ground beside her. "Only a _little_ ," she said, holding it up before the light and sloshing its contents around inside for him to see. "You know, it's awful stuff! Even ours is better! I can't even finish it."

Amu held it out then, letting the surface of the glass shine in the light of a nearby candelabra and Ikuto took it as an invitation. He sidled over to the balcony, examining her face as he swished the rum in thought. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkling, but she didn't _look_ drunk to him. Rather, Ikuto wondered if a few swigs of rum had just loosened her up because she was acting as though nothing had even happened and she _did_ look remarkably relaxed, smiling down at the twinkling lights of the sleepy town.

Deciding that he didn't want to lose his grasp of reality (because, honestly, whatever Kukai had served him was more than enough), Ikuto didn't touch the liquor for a while. "Amu," he stalled; "where'd you even get this?"

Amu shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Room next door." she said simply. "Some sailor tried to pay his wench in rum. She stormed out; left it all behind. Figured ' _why not?'_ "

Ikuto laughed lightly and took a small drink before proffering it back to her. "Better drink up."

" _Captain_ ," Amu tried to sound appalled, but she could barely contain herself - could barely stop the teasing grin spreading across her lips as she eyed the bottle in his hand; "are you trying to get me drunk?"

Feeling that familiar, playful spark alight between them, Ikuto suddenly felt brave. He decided to test the waters.

"That depends." He smirked. "Do I have to?"

Ikuto had half-expected the woman next to him to huff or shy away at the low purr of his tone, but, to his delight, Amu looked almost sly. She took the bottle from his hands and allowed herself a tiny drink. "So you can… What was it? 'Make it up to me'?"

Ikuto hummed as if in thought, deliberately brushing beside her arm as he leant onto the balcony rail. "Maybe. If Her Highness asks nicely." He teased.

She considered this for a moment. A flicker of doubt crossed her face.

"S-So…" Amu began tentatively. "How _would_ you want to… To make it up to me?"

A silence fell and Amu's lingering question hung thick in the air between them. All too quickly the gentle evening breeze was gone. Reeling, Amu tried to take a gulp and found her breath too shallow. Ikuto looked about to respond, but caught himself just as fast, though a sparkle of something shone bright in his eyes. She stammered;

"N-Never-Never mind-!" Amu cursed herself, growing pink again. "I-I don't-don't know why I asked that…"

Amu trailed off uselessly, averting her gaze back to the view from their balcony, and, as Ikuto watched her shift restlessly, he almost thought he understood. When he closed his eyes, he at once found himself not here on this balcony - not in an empty chamber atop a sleazy tavern. No… For the briefest of moments, Ikuto found himself back in the middle of a fiery square, squinting in the light of the torches, bruised and bloodied and beaten to his knees and between the two of them there shone that beacon - the noble figure, golden and pure - and when he tapped his staff on the cobblestones the earth seemed to shift. A line was cut across the earth. And Amu was beyond a barrier he could not breach. And still, although they had fled from that world altogether, in Ikuto's mind she often still shone in a regal light to which he could never compare.

Only Ikuto had never supposed she'd seen it too.

' _Yes…'_ Ikuto told himself. ' _Yes, I might be a pirate… But I_ am _a gentleman.'_

Did she think him a scoundrel? A real rogue? When he teased her so suggestively did she truly fear he meant more than jests? It had always been a part of their banter, sure, but, now that he considered it, the thought was unsettling.

"Are you uncomfortable?"

Was she?

"No."

A wave of relief passed over him. Amu calmed and sent him a reassuring smile and almost instantly the air was cleared, free and light again, yet still there lingered something distinctly different between them then as Ikuto inched towards her. It was like the swell before a tidal wave; like the brief little sparkle of a newly-lit flame; it was something like anticipation, yet thrilling - _exciting!_ Something that made the flutter in her heart transform into leaps and somersaults as he took her gently by the chin and brushed her jaw with the pad of his thumb.

"I must say…" Ikuto whispered, looking pleased as she held her breath and marvelled at the glorious evening sky mirrored in his eyes; "There are times when I find you far too tempting…"

His fingers trailed south and and came to rest at the curve of her waist. Amu let out a short breath of laughter as she found herself pulled into his embrace when he spoke.

"I was worried when you left me back down there."

Her answer was immediate;

"Don't be."

Amu's hands were wandering now, trailing the golden stitching down the front of his coat distractedly, up the rim of his collar and down the side of his neck, biting at her lip as a warmth coursed through her veins. And it must have been the rum, she decided, making her throw all caution to the wind, letting down her inhibitions because, now that they were alone together, Amu couldn't help herself;

"And…" Amu breathed; "How shall I make it up to _you_..?"

Amu quietly triumphed as Ikuto blinked down at her, taken aback. He hummed again, leaning down towards her ear; "Well… I think a kiss will do for now."

And now, she understood. It was _definitely_ the rum because Amu realised then, as she pulled away and took in Ikuto's grin that that she didn't want a sweet, chaste kiss - a simple plant on the cheek or a peck on the mouth. Amu wanted to mark his lips in a scalding, searing kiss until she could barely think straight; until all proprietary was completely disregarded and all else faded into the night until there was nothing save for them and these little chambers and their lips intertwined.

'A kiss for now'? She didn't think just a kiss would do. Amu couldn't explain it. She'd never wanted anything of the sort before - even with _him_ , for all the kisses they'd shared together - and yet here… Here it didn't seem to matter. She was under some enchantment. There were sparks in the air, glowing like fireflies against the night, and she was intoxicated in Ikuto's arms, drinking in his very being like a woman parched of thirst. Oh, how her family would grieve to see her now - ready to melt away in the arms of a pirate - but there was alcohol in her veins and a boldness in her blood and as her fingers curled tight around the front of his coat they were inching closer, their breath ghosting across each others' lips; her eyes were closing, giving in to the ceaseless _tug-tug-tug_ that pulled her heart to his…

And then the spell was broken.

Amu snapped her eyes back open and jerked away before it even happened. All of a sudden the tavern had returned; the abandoned bedroom had returned; the smoke and the smell and the ungodly racket-

An almighty bang and the shatter of glass broke cleanly through the clamour, renting the night even up here on their little balcony. Two two pulled away, leaping on the spot as the impact echoed in the air and glanced worriedly at each other before sprinting for the door.

There was a walkway outside Amu's dilapidated chamber and the two found themselves gazing over the rail and unto the tavern hall below. The din had abruptly died; a collective hush fell about the room. The two of them turned back to face the bar and, simultaneously, their hearts sank. Kukai was stood at a table with a group of unfamiliar men, utterly inebriated, his cheeks red and his hands held up in surrender. Cards were strewn across the floor; bottles lay broken at their feet; the candle in the little lamp flickered dangerously as one man hollered;

" _My money back, Souma! Hand 'em over an' per'aps I'll let ya off, ya stinkin', no-good,_ cheat!"

"Oi, oi, _oi!"_ Kukai was slurring uselessly; "I won that game _fair an' square-!"_

" _THIEF!"_

The following few seconds where an unfathomable blur. One moment the two men had been stood metres apart and the next Kukai was pinned to a table, struggling weakly against the strength of his rival's little group of allite. One reached for a broken bottle and lunged towards him, but one of their crewmates appeared from nowhere and decked him straight across the jaw. Suddenly sailors were yelling; bottles were flying; and before Amu could so much as recognise that they were headed straight for a full-scale bar fight, the dreaded cry rang out across the room;

" _He's a pirate!"_ Some dirty snitch yelled. " _A pirate!"_

And, well, that was that.

The entire tavern descended into chaos.

"Looks like we've outstayed our welcome!" Amu cried out over the clamour, but Ikuto didn't hear her. As the locals ran riot down below, Ikuto grabbed her by the arm and gestured back the way they'd come…

But then, as they glanced back one last time over the railings and contemplated their escape route, Ikuto caught a flash of his own face on a poster behind the bar. He paled. His body became rigid, his feet planted to the spot. Amu followed his gaze and felt her heart drop dead in her chest. She whisked him away from the balcony edge and took his hand; " _Come on, come on!"_ she hissed. " _Time to go!"_ And the two of them fled back down the narrow corridor, trying to remember which direction they'd come up in the first place, dashing past the rows and rows of occupied chambers towards the stairs only to be stopped briefly by a frantic barmaid who at once turned white and hollered at the top of her lungs upon seeing their faces. They ignored her. In fact, at first they thought nothing of her, for she turned on her heel and locked herself in an empty room, but by this time that single, word that sealed their fates - ' _pirate!' -_ had travelled like a tidal wave about the tavern and disgruntled sailors in hastily recovered clothes were emerging from the bed chambers, their eyes landing the pink glow of Amu's head beneath the candlelight.

Deafening the uproar might have been, but even Amu heard the foul curse that left Ikuto's mouth. And it was probably justified, too. Perhaps five able-looking opponents had joined them, their faces pale with recognition, but their eyes determined and blazing as they realised what a potential goldmine they had stumbled upon. Amu had absolutely no time to think before the first punches were thrown, but it was a good thing she had Ikuto on her side. He was light on his feet and with all the skill and agility of a natural, he'd evaded one blow - two; _three!_ \- and sent one charging man headfirst over the balcony edge. Amu didn't even have time to hear him hit the ground because, before she could so much as reach for her concealed dagger, Ikuto took her by the waist, slumped her over his shoulder and made a wild dash down the corridor.

" _IKUTO!"_ Being hoisted in an unflattering fireman's hold had certainly _not_ been on her agenda for tonight. She thwacked him roughly on the back of the shoulder. " _Put me down, you ruffian!"_ Even in the havoc wreaking all around them, Amu she heard him chuckle.

They were racing now. The heavy steps of their assailants had the floorboards jumping beneath their feet. Metallic ' _clang!'_ ing down below signalled the start of at least a dozen deadly sword duels. Somewhere off to Amu's left, she thought she felt a rush of warmth and was at once alarmed to think that maybe some of the lantern lights had spilled over, flicking flames across the wooden beams that held up the entire floor above. Ikuto tried desperately to glance back over his other shoulder and was relieved to watch his weary opponents slip behind. The maze of rooms and balconies was clearing; he could _see_ the top of the staircase; could just _feel_ his fear receding as he took that first downward step…

And then, out of nowhere, a shot was fired.

The bullet swept the hat clean off his head. The plaster on the wall beside him crumpled and fell into his face. In the shock his footing was lost…

They fell.

Ikuto felt Amu slip from his shoulder as the two of them went tumbling down; he grit his teeth as his ankle caught beneath his feet; his cranium smacked sickeningly on the edge of the steps and, for a moment, all went dark. Amu barely caught herself, gripping onto the bannisters so tightly that the whole thing shook like a yard in a gale, and hauled herself to her feet when she heard that dreadful ' _thwack!'_ sounding some steps down. She felt the force reverberate through the wooden steps. She smelt iron. Amu gasped aloud and scurried over. Ikuto was lying limp, face-down at the foot of the staircase. When she rolled him onto his back blood trickled freely down the side of his face and she hastily tore a bunch of frills from the end of her sleeve and pressed it to the gaping wound above his forehead.

When Ikuto came to, no more than a minute could have passed and Amu was shaking him roughly by the shoulder, yelling frantically mere inches from his face, but the words were drowned out by the ringing in his own head. His vision was blurring and his consciousness once more fading, but even he in his sorry state could recognise the flash of sparks; the flare of orange; the almighty ' _crack!'_ of gunfire as the first following shots of the night were fired. He sat bolt upright, ignoring the unbearable wave of nausea and blinked. The barmaids were shrieking; the harlots were ducking behind the bar; sailors and pirates and just about every man in-between were hurling themselves across the tavern hall, shooting or punching or drawing daggers and knives, throwing themselves bodily into the fray.

Amu's words finally reached him; " _We have to go!"_

And just in time too, for at that very second a bottle exploded inches above his head. Amu ducked instinctively.

" _Come on,"_ Ikuto stood and drew his pistol. Hazy his vision might have been, but he caught sight of the man with the bottle soon enough. He was picking up a heavy tankard and attempting to clout Kukai (who was currently writhing on the bloodstained floor) in the face with it. With a cloud of smoke and a shimmer of sparks, Ikuto shot the man dead. He tried not to slip on the pool of his own blood as he and Amu raced over to their fallen companion.

"Come on, Kukai!" Amu said loudly. "Up you get! Time to go!"

" _Amuuu-!"_ Kukai cried in delight, red in the face and smiling giddily. " _Ya've come ta save me-!"_

Ikuto gave him no time to protest. He wiped the blood from his left eye (for no other reason than to share a particularly withered look with Amu) and in a matter of seconds they had him up on his feet, leaning heavily between them with his arms over their shoulders. "Get up, idiot-" - (he paused to fire a second bullet into the face of a new assailant) - "or I'll keelhaul your sorry ass!"

Unfortunately, Kukai was utterly useless. He probably couldn't have even sat up by himself if he'd tried and so, with just one free hand each to defend themselves, Ikuto and Amu were forced to rely on their own crew to hew them a safe path through the rallying locals. More had rushed over from neighbouring taverns, so they'd heard. There were men in the streets shouting about pirate ships, apparently. Some of their own allies had even made off and fled back to the Shining Black the second the first punch was thrown and Ikuto made a mental note to list the names of all who had so cowardly ran and abandoned their crewmates. He'd have to think of some suitable punishment later on, but for now it was all he could do to keep on his feet as they (with great difficulty) managed to shove their way through the masses and make a break for it into the night, for there was no chance of fighting for themselves with Kukai slumped between them. They could see through the glow of many inn windows that their protective crewmates had escaped safely with them. They were racing ahead through the streets - down towards the quays - looking fearfully over their shoulders, stumbling over their own two feet. Even with Kukai's dead weight, the pair of them willed themselves to go faster. By the time they reached the docks, their drunken burden was half-asleep, his feet dragging in the dirt as they lugged him over the gangplank.

Utau, who had remained behind to keep ship that night, was seething. " _What the hell happened?"_ she cried. Even here beside the seafront, Amu was sure they could still hear the distant echoes of gunfire, but it was still far off and she breathed an incredible sigh of relief when she saw the crew get to work. Better to put some distance between them and the mainland for a long, long time. On seeing the state of Ikuto's face, Utau looked aghast. "Ikuto! What ha-"

Ikuto, who was by this point squinting through one bloodied eye and slightly swaying on the spot, let Kukai drop drop face-down on the companionway with an almighty ' _thud!'_. "Blame this idiot." He spat and he shook his head if only to keep himself from slipping away for just another minute.

Utau was seething. "You should make for your cabin, you complete _lightweight_... _I_ can take us from here."

By this time, the sails were full and the little, dockside town was slowly waning from their sight. Perhaps if they'd been in more peril, Ikuto might have fought her, but he was too spent. Breathing heavily, he just watched in silence as Utau flounced off across the deck and leant his weight upon the bulwark. Great, dark spots were blooming before his eyes. His vision was swimming. He didn't notice Amu's look of concern; couldn't hear her voice; couldn't feel her touch... Yet not one of them - not a single soul amongst them on board the Shining Black - noticed the rugged black bird, lazily circling their ship as they drifted out to sea, swooping as a cloud to black out the stars and making off towards the shore in the distance, the moonlight a deathly glint against its beak and a small roll of parchment bound to its foot.

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : This was probably way too long a chapter, but I don't want to drag this story out any more than I have to and also because I feel ridiculously guilty about my late updates.

Plus the sooner I get to some adventure the better. I'm _very_ excited to write about these islands! It's feeling more and more like a pirate fic.

I feel like my amuto's getting rusty. I'm unused to writing romance without angst lmao, so please, let me know how I can improve! Thanks for reading ~


	8. Chapter Eight

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

In these midnight hours, men ran amok. Almost certainly it was understandable, for here, far from the light of civilisation; from glory; from the righteous, blazing glare of the sun itself the night would devour them whole. In the night they roamed unchecked. Under cover of darkness no evil deed would ever see the light of day - no man would never meet his just retribution, for, as the old mantra reminds us, dead men tell no tales.

And so in these, the darkest hours, men would teeter on the edge - would blindly walk down paths well-trodden by countless, sordid souls alike. With trembling, shaky steps; the fall of their feet obscured in the gloom they went and, though twisted and turned about in the dark, these souls would grow bold - accustomed to their lightless world - and there they'd test their feet. Running. Dancing. Jogging and jigging with reckless abandon down their chosen road, blissfully unaware that with every step they staggered ever closer to the gaping chasm at their feet. The chasm that swallowed the sea; that swallowed the lingering light; the earth itself unhinging its jaws and widened and gaped and _swelled_ at the coming of night, devouring those whose minds had been lost; who had strayed too close to oblivion.

Fortune had seen the wild thrill of the night drive even the most seaworthy to despair. He had seen the rise and fall of titans; seen the spirit of smoke and the spill of blood left lingering in their wake; he had watched them ascend to glory and topple headfirst into hell, dragged down, down, down under the weight of their own inflated sense of self.

These men… How pitiful, he thought. How reckless. How utterly incompetent, he mused as he watched their shadows shift beneath the waves, for _he_ had tested those waters on far more accursed nights than these. He had learned to keep his feet. He had perfected his footwork. To him, the stroll beside the brink was but a leisurely waltz and there now he could stand and stare into the abyss itself with his own two eyes and never fear the mighty fall that awaited beneath him. He and his ship and all who sailed her would boldly voyage on the brink and not a day went by that Fortune was not struck by awe at the sight of his galleon. No other craft he knew could stay as true to her Captain as she. No other craft could blend in wholly against this absence of light.

But, after all these years, Fortune knew better than any that the Dark Fortune - in all her glory! - was different.

The Dark Fortune was _alive_.

At least, that's what her Captain said, though in truth, perhaps _every_ man cast adrift on this endless sea would at one time or another proclaim their ships to be as sentient as they.

But the Dark Fortune was not like those other ships. No, not in the slightest. The Dark Fortune was no mere bulk of brawn and boards and bundles of line.

There, as the clock chimed twelve in the Captain's cabin, Fortune sat beside the window and ran his hand across the wall.

There… He felt her pulse. He heard her sigh. His forehead pressed against the cool, rippled glass, Fortune marvelled at the likeness she shared with he, for she breathed with the wind and danced across the tide like any other, but he felt it - something intangible; something wholly _different._ Her structure was weighted with memory. Her figurehead grimaced as she cut through the sea. Her hull was as dark the workings of his minds and with every creak; every groan she beat in time to his own blackened heart;

 _Thump, thump…_

 _Thump, thump…_

It was continuous. Everlasting. In the catch of the sails and the ringing of bells and the lurch of the capstan she played;

 _Thump, thump!_

 _Thump, thump!_

 _Thump, thump!_

Furious. Firm. Fixated on her end she continued on and there in his cabin her Captain would revel in the rhythm of their hearts as one - as some terrible entity in itself - and low and tormented he would mutter, in time with the tap of his boot, to a tune of his own imagining - giving thought and rhyme where she could not;

" _Fifteen men o' the whole ship's list…_

 _Dead an' be damned an' the rest gone whist…"_

' _Whip! Whip!'_ went the wind in the sails. ' _Clang! Clang!'_ rang the beating of iron. Huffing and puffing and grunting aloud the men weathered on, falling in line as the cogs of a well-oiled contraption and blissfully ignorant they trod through the night; clueless; unaware that they only added to the steady beat that yards away their Captain chanted, slipping into shadow, wrapped wholly in the vicarious delight of his own melody, for in his mind he saw his heart's desire play before him as clear as day -

" _Fifteen men of 'em stiff an' stark,_

 _Ten o' the crew had the Murder Mark,_

' _Twere a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead,_

 _Or a yawning hole in a battered head,_

 _An' the scuppers glut with a rottin' red_ _ー"_

Oh yes… _That_ was his fantasy, he thought as the still-beating galleon filled in the sound of his silence. _That_ was his twisted dream - his self-indulgent vision set in some distant reality where the night tasted of ash and iron and the flicker of fire blazed hot on his chin; where the darkness encompassed all; where the planks beneath his feet shone slick and crimson and the white diamond above his head fettered feebly in the dying wind, charred and tattered beyond all recognition.

Oh… Fortune could just see it now… He could just _feel_ the heat of the flames; smell the blood in the air as he boarded the still-smoking shell of the Shining Black, treading from bow to stern, his chest swelling with a sickening sense of pride as he took in the sight of his handiwork, yet back in his cabin - in that dark, dismal place where few other dreams dwelt - Fortune's grip on this world was slipping. His breath was shuddering. His knuckles whitened, fingers opening and closing uselessly around the arm of his chair as if hoping to feel the cool reassurance of his blade in his hand. He saw it in his head, after all. He saw it glitter under golden embers; watched it neatly clove the lock from the cabin door at the end of the corridor. He sneered and snarled in sadistic victory as the beat wore on - over and over and _over_ again;

' _Thump! Thump!'_

' _Thump Thump!'_

" _More was seen through the stern light screen…"_

He yanked the broken padlock from its chain and threw it aside, kicked the doors open with a bloodstained boot -

" _Chartin's no doubt where a woman had been…"_

A broken chair. A toppled desk. All manner of chests and drawers and fallen pieces of furniture littered his path - an improvised barricade that had proved utterly futile - when Fortune saw it. Amongst the slivers of parchment and the rags of cloth, before the soot-stained remnants of a once glittering, golden skirt, he espied the shadow behind the bedframe -

" _A flimsy shift on a bunker cot…"_

Rip back the drapes! Toss up the sheets! Fortune cast the curtain aside and threw back his head and there the man laughed - laughed loud and free until the lanterns shook and the candles flickered and at that image of bloodied pink Fortune would sing;

" _And a think dirk slot through the bosom spot!_

 _An' the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot!_

 _Oh, was she a wench, or some shuddering maid?_

 _That bared the knife? That took the blade!"_

His chair fell back with a clatter, for now Fortune stood and as his vision faded he clung to the thought - grasped forever onto that dream and all it promised! Onto the sight of their pitiful flag torn in the breeze! The sight of his enemies felled! He clung with all his might to the image of Her Highness' face frozen in the fear of her final stand, her eyes unseeing, that glint of silver shining wickedly in the space between her ribs! O! To live amongst this desolation, he thought!

" _O!"_ he cried, though to the men on his ship or the men in his dreams, none could tell;

" _Heave 'em over an' out o' sight!_

 _With a mighty heave-ho an' a fare you well!_

 _An' a sudden plunge in the sudden swell!_

 _Ten fathoms deep on the road to HELL-!"_

A crash. The shatter of glass. The spray of rum and the beating of far-off thunder joined his chorus and when the moon had wholly vanished - when the clouds rolled in and the wind grew stronger still - it was then that, finally, Fortune fell. Fortune there found himself at once beyond the point of no return, slipping bodily from the very edge that he had strolled upon for so many years, vanishing into the depths of the abyss, for when the ink-black raven returned to him with its latest tidings his rage at last encompassed all else. His face was like thunder. The fury in his eyes was like the recoiling of the sea. His knuckles shone white in the dark of the Captain's cabin as he tore up the scroll, burst from his cabin and onto the deck and hollered;

" _KAZUOMI!_

The Dark Fortune shuddered. The planks shivered upon the surface of the deck and, as the shadow of the sails fell across their backs, the crew stilled. The rhythm - the beating of the Dark Fortune's heart had stopped, for, though each and every soul was dastardly enough as to deserve a place on this craft, their Captain's fury was beyond comparison. But Fortune was too bound by his unbridled rage to pay them any heed. His eyes had grown dark. His face had caved. He clenched his fists and to his feet there fell, in perfect pieces, the remnants of the ruined wanted poster. Of Ikuto's face. Of the so-called ' _Captain'_ of the Shining Black...

Above their heads, the raven swooped against the sky and cawed obnoxiously as it found a space to settle in the yardarms. With that, the spell of bewilderment upon its master's head was broken.

" _Coward!"_ Fortune cursed aloud. " _Kazuomi..! Kazuomi you COWARD!"_

What… What was Kazuomi _playing_ at?

Did he think he could stay his sentence? Did that blundering, blithering _wretch_ think he could throw him off his tail with… With _this_?!

By this point Fortune was panting, his features contorted, his eyes blazing with the heat of his ire;

"I want him… _Kazuomi_ … Kazuomi an' his _wretched_ royal _whore!"_

When finally he had stopped quaking, Fortune spat once upon the torn pieces of the poster and kicked them towards the nearest shiphand.

" _Send tidings!"_ he snapped. " _Send word! We must find them!"_

The man did not reply. At first enraged, Fortune turned on him and watched aghast as the man's face drained of colour. To his surprise, several others were now backing away from him - stepping aside as if he carried the plague…

Ah… _That_ was it. The scoundrel was draped in a soldier's coat - a naval man's uniform. The King's colours stood stark against the gloom in a blazing splash of crimson and blue; in flecks of gold and silver embroidery and the weather-worn medals that he'd had a mind to loot himself when they'd sunk that small-time schooner just days ago. And, in any other situation, Fortune might have felt his rage return. He might've let it light anew as a terrible fire in the depths of his heart. He might have watched the young pirate's face pale and revelled in the shake of his boots as he drew forth his rapier and descended upon the boy as a tidal wave bears down on the shore.

But Fortune did not.

On the contrary… This Captain felt perhaps the most daring notion take hold in his heart. And he knew then that this endeavour of his would require some rather… _Risky_ tactics if he was to succeed.

"The fleets…"

It was right there… Staring him in the face this entire time. And yet he had been too blind to _see_ it.

" _His Majesty's fleets…"_

The idea dawned upon him - blooming into flower as a new-sprung bud of May - and, as he watched it gain clarity in his mind, a dastardly, decrepit grin broke out across his face.

After all…

"Follow them..!"

...What better way to hunt a fox, Fortune thought, than to follow the dogs?

And, with a growl;

" _Find them."_

And so, once more, the harbinger took flight.

~.~.~

When Ikuto awoke the following day, stirred gently back to life under the continual to-and-fro of the stern, he was unusually calm. Or, at least, as calm as a person could be on finding their whole world dark and distorted.

Ikuto heard himself groan. He smelt the ever-present tang of salt and spray and at first he was half-convinced that he'd just blacked out for a minute or so - that on opening his eyes he'd find himself still stood swaying beside the gangway, watching his men as they scurried hastily to work under the light of the moon and glancing back to watch the flickering lights of the mainland retreating. Yet soon he realised… There was no moon; no activity nor deck beneath his feet and Ikuto woke, roused at once from his heavy slumber, utterly confused and desperately disoriented. He tried to sit and found that he was in bed. _His_ bed. He could just make out the shapes and shadows of a room - of _his_ cabin - soaked in a soft light. It seemed long past morning, but, groggy and bleary-eyed, this world was too much of a mess for him to comprehend. He slumped back down onto the sheets, dropping like a weight, and gladly shut his eyes again.

Really, Ikuto didn't think he could even sit up again if he tried. Now that he was awake, his entire body was groaning in protest. It was if there was a lag on his brain; as if the weight of the sea were upon his shoulders, pinning him back to the sheets. His breathing was heavy; he was sweating; Ikuto glanced back down and noticed that he was still wearing the same, stifling clothes from the night before. Well, that explained the heat, he guessed, but… As for the rest of it..?

Ikuto scoured his memory, at first with no success, but, the longer he lay there, slowly things started to make sense. Gradually his thoughts formed clearer. Of course… He'd only been on-deck for maybe an hour or so before being commanded into his cabin for the night. Ikuto remembered that now - Utau was fierce when she needed to be, but he couldn't exactly have refuted her if he'd tried. The fact that he could barely remember most of the previous day spoke for itself and besides, the hammering in his head was unbearable. He groaned aloud as a streak of sunlight broke over the blue of the sea, beamed through the dappled windows and settled upon his face. The pain surfaced like a flare and sent furious sparks behind his eyelids. He tried to rub his temples to ease his discomfort, but was only alarmed to find his skin taut and sticky, the reek of iron suddenly strong in the air. Ikuto examined the blood on his palm through squinted eyes, his forehead throbbing, but, for the life of him, he couldn't remember how it got there.

As it turned out, he didn't have to ponder this for very long. It was perhaps only ten minutes or so before the latch of the door slid open, shattering the still silence, and Ikuto's foggy vision caught a welcome splash of pink.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" Ikuto managed a crooked smirk, watching that shade of rose and the glitter of gold grow clearer and more defined as she walked towards him. "Or has Her Highness chosen to grace me with her presence?"

He barely noticed the tension in her shoulders or the tight grip on the tray in her hands, but there was a definite reluctance in Amu's voice as she set the tray down beside the bed and gently helped as he tried to sit up again. "Please…" Amu muttered. "' _Her Highness'_ would rather not be hauling her Captain's sorry ass out of bed, but here we are. Sit up."

She was grumbling, but Ikuto didn't think he could hear any real malice in her tone, so he just relaxed and tried to face her with as much dignity as he might have left. "You know, Amu, you've been the one telling me to knock for all these months." He teased. And, when she looked back at him curiously; "Bold of you, princess, to enter your Captain's cabin without warning."

Amu's quizzical expression was quickly replaced by one of exasperation. "Well maybe you deserve it! You barge into my quarters all the time!" she snapped, perhaps more fiercely than she meant to, but Ikuto noticed the grey circles beneath her eyes and the rough, chewed edge of her lip and wondered whether or not she'd been the one forced to haul his ass _into_ bed the night before as well. "Honestly," she went on; "a ladies' modesty is more than you know."

Ikuto didn't think he heard such certainty in her voice at that, but he didn't mention it. Besides, Amu seemed just about done with this conversation. She took up the tray which carried a meagre sort of breakfast and a basin of water and, whilst he was still trying to think of something suitable to say, she soaked a rag of cloth, gesturing for him to turn his head, and winced as she brushed back his hair to examine the head wound underneath. Ikuto took the pain without fuss, tilting his head to the side as Amu sponged the thick, dark mess off the side of his face. Though, now that he thought about it, perhaps he was too busy wondering why his entire body felt covered in bruises or why his shirt was so terribly caked in patches of dry, brittle bloodstains. He frowned with difficulty, barely grimacing as a trickle of water ran down the back of his neck and along his spine, and glanced over at the woman beside him.

"What in the hell happened?"

Instantly Amu stopped. Bright honey-coloured eyes landed firmly upon him. He searched them closely for any hint of emotion, but, frustratingly, he found none. They remained unreadable - distant - as she tilted her head to the side and murmured; "You don't remember?"

There was a heavy pause - a good few seconds of uneasy eye-contact as the two remained locked in varying states of confusion. Amu watched intently as Ikuto examined his hazy memories, her hand still poised and pressed against his bleeding forehead.

"You remember getting back?" she asked. "To the ship, I mean?"

Ikuto hesitated. "Some of it." he said truthfully. He remembered the moment he'd set foot on-deck at least, but it was almost as though he had jumped through time - skipped straight from there to here in an instant. "Well, we made it to the dock, didn't we?" he said, unusually unfazed by his lack of recall. Now that most of his skin was free of blood he thought he could smell liquor and perhaps the faintest traces of gunpowder and pipesmoke. It seemed to shift as in clouds from his clothes with every movement, but, even in his daze, he didn't _think_ he felt hungover…

Which then only offered one solution;

"Did we get into a gunfight?"

Quickly something passed over Amu's face and Ikuto knew that he'd been right. It was something close to exasperation - something weary and worn-down that he recognised in an instant. He chuckled lightly, leaning back against the headboard and grabbing a dry cloth to mop his face with.

"Of course. Nothing quite like an almighty ruckus to start off a voyage."

Amu laughed somewhat drily. "You start off every voyage like this?" And she shook her head, wringing out her rag into the basin. "You ought to warn me next time, would you? Honestly, Ikuto, here I am nursing the Captain like an infant!"

A low chuckle left his throat at that and he swept his eyes up and down her figure - from the hem of her skirt to the tight fit of her bodice and all the way to the pink tinge of her cheeks, flushed in barely-suppressed annoyance, and the sight was perhaps so adorable that he couldn't resist himself. He pouted, a mischievous glint alight in his eyes, and as soon as he could sit on the edge of the bed without falling back down she was his - his arms wrapped round her waist; his cheek nuzzled into the curve of her side. He purred;

"Then _nurse_ me."

Ikuto took great pleasure in the way her breath caught at those words. He felt it - felt the sharp inhale swell beneath her ribs; felt the tension in her frame and the heat rush through her skin as he held her tight in his arms. She just seemed to fit so perfectly; flush against his front, nestled into the crook of his arm. He glanced up once to flash a cheeky grin at her and saw that her cheeks were scarlet…

And then something, somewhere deep in the back of his memory stirred.

Ikuto tasted rum. He felt the gentle brush of the breeze of his face - smelt the evening air; the smoke; he smelt lavender and the fresh, fragrant air that seemed to linger about her presence. His cheeks were flushed. His heart was hammering-

" _Captain…"_

A giggle. A sly smirk. And there... Clearer now... Amu's voice echoed in his mind, stirred his senses - a single, subtle moment of clarity about the gloom. Ikuto heard himself chuckle; heard her breath; the beating of her heart…

" _Are you trying to get me drunk?"_

And then the illusion was shattered. Ikuto didn't even see it coming until he'd already been backhanded across the face. He let out a muffled groan, his head wound throbbing with renewed passion, and slunk back down onto the bedsheets in defeat.

"At least leave me to suffer in _peace_."

Amu looked sympathetically down at him. "Sorry, ruffian," she mumbled, absently stroking his hair so soothingly that he could've gone back to sleep again. At least she had the decency to look regretful, he thought. "It's a nasty concussion, but you look like you're doing fine. Especially if you can still harass me, at least. You needed to be sober and risen by dawn, but I couldn't get you to stir..."

"I am sober." Ikuto said. "Was I not?"

Amu's inattentive stroking stopped dead. Ikuto cracked open one lazy eye and saw her face unreadable.

"What?"

As one drawn from deep in thought, Amu startled, a blossom of pink blooming across her pale cheeks. She withdrew her hand and averted her gaze. "N-Nothing." she replied, quite unconvincingly, Ikuto had to add, but she left no room for argument. "Now come on! I'm not coming to get you again!"

Ikuto just grumbled incoherently in response. He didn't really want to move. Not when he'd started to feel his persistent headache cowering away at Amu's touch, but in the end he sighed. He was the Captain, after all. He had to make an effort, concussion or not. It was the least he could do for her efforts this morning.

Ikuto resigned himself to a long, arduous day's work of at least _trying_ to look together on-deck. He eased himself to his feet with Amu's aid and somehow managed to keep his balance even when the room seemed to spin beneath him. She passed him a goblet of water (oh, how he would miss the taste of such fresh stuff once it was gone) and watched as he forced down a piece of hardtack (which was thankfully light on his stomach). He watched her out of the corner of his eye curiously as he slowly ate, scrutinising the flush of her cheeks and wondering why he felt as though he was missing something important, but there was no time to think about it. Not when she was shoving him toward the dresser and demanding he make himself presentable. Ikuto couldn't complain. Something about the persistent stench of blood and booze was starting to make his insides turn. He grabbed a fresh shirt and trousers, chuckling cheekily as he watched Amu turn away, splashed his face with the last of the water to wake himself up and shrugged on his regular, blue coat before going out to face the day.

The sun was unnaturally and invasively bright that morning - brighter even than it had seemed bearing down on him through his cabin windows - but Ikuto was positive to at least make it to the quarterdeck without having to turn around and collapse back into bed again. The smell of the salt in the air seemed to rouse him though and, even if his vision was still occasionally shifting, the uneasy motion of the ship on the waves seemed to balance the effect out. As the deck rose and fell beneath him, Ikuto almost felt grounded. Amu even left him alone after a while and went to aid Yaya down below once she was sure he wasn't about to faceplant the planks and so Ikuto stood, slowly coming back into himself, and surveyed his crew from above.

There were relatively few men on-deck for the time of day, though most of them were probably just going down to collect their midday rations from the galley. Still, a lot of them looked pretty green in the face and the Captain almost laughed to himself. Now that he thought more carefully, he thought he recalled a lot of their faces in that tavern before all hell broke loose. For a moment he wondered with a jolt of horror whether they had all in fact made it back to the ship, but he quickly dismissed the thought. His men were too light and jovial for that to have been the case. He found Kukai beside the helmsman not too long after and, from what he'd heard, there'd been more than a few swords exchanged that night. One man had apparently been _shot_ , so Kukai said, but upon seeing Ikuto's appalled expression, the young pirate just laughed aloud and said;

"Nah, don't worry, Cap'n! It was only him with the wooden arm. Blasted right outta it's holdin's, it did. He won't be climbin' anythin' for a while, I tell ya!"

And, true to his word, Ikuto glanced down from the bulwark and saw the elderly man-of-fortune himself sat upon a barrel, grumbling to himself and trying to whittle down a piece of wood into a makeshift prosthetic. He laughed out of sheer relief.

"Pretty lucky, eh?" Kukai said lightly. "Any longer an' I'd've been gone! Cheers for the swift rescue, by the way."

Ikuto raised an eyebrow. After a moment of awkward silence, Kukai blinked.

"For… For stoppin' that fella from beatin' the shit outta me…" he said slowly. And then, just as Ikuto was about to reply, his eyes widened in remembrance, lighting up like little green lanterns. " _Ohh,_ right! That's it! Utau _said_ you might've been concussed! You took a mighty fall down them steps - I remember that much. Still, thanks anyway. I tell ya, you're an amazin' shot even when you're out of it-"

"And just what the hell did you do that warranted my shooting a man?" Ikuto sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. Kukai turned sheepish then. He rubbed the back of his head absently, his cheeks fading of colour. "Souma, when we reach this god-damned island I'm gonna maroon your sorry ass so bad-"

" _Chill,_ man!" Kukai whined. "Go easy on me, Cap'n! I didn't mean it! I was _hussled!_ I won big at cards an' they couldn't handle it!"

" _Sure_ you did, Souma," Ikuto uttered drily, yet, though he wouldn't care to admit it, he'd have been lying if he said he wasn't just a _little_ bit curious. He scrutinised the younger pirate and tried in vain to make sense of the blank spaces in his memory because if Kukai really had been set upon after a night of gambling then he was truly lucky to have gotten away alive. Men in need of money were fierce and unforgiving. "Who'd you hussle?"

Kukai shrugged as if it were no big deal. "I dunno…" he said. "Some guy called Kiseki I think..? Either way, I ain't never going back! I only managed to snatch up a few hundred guineas before they came at me-"

"A few _hundred_ guineas?" Ikuto hissed, aghast. Kukai immediately grew sheepish again. Too struck for words, the Captain just shook his head in disbelief. "If you ever find these men again you're paying them back with your own shares."

"Well, I dunno about that, but hey, ya never know. Let's hope ol' Kazuomi _did_ leave somethin' of his shares buried on a desert island."

Ikuto didn't know whether to laugh or scoff. If they'd been tailing any other pirate in existence then he might've doubted it, but, then again… His stepfather was perhaps the greediest soul he'd ever known. He'd stuffed gold everywhere. Behind his bed posts; under floorboards; all the way down to the deep, dark, hidden places inside the hold where they'd found their cache yesterday. Utau had even found a few remnants of their mother's old jewellery tucked neatly between the planks of the beakhead. It was certainly no leap of faith to suppose that there might just be some deserted isle, ravaged by the tide of the sea, serving as a safehouse not only for the man himself, but for the riches he sought to possess. What was more, Kazuomi had been entirely obsessed with the myth of that one 'Great Treasure' for longer than any of them knew. And there was no greater buried treasure myth in any other fable to be found.

"Well," Ikuto began eventually; "I don't suppose this will be your typical desert island. Not this far north, anyway…" He paused to draw out the map from his pocket and spread it out across the top of the bulwark, trailing his finger over their route. "It looks to have broken off from the eastern continent. It's there - beyond their colonies. There's a little chain of mountainous isles running all the way across that stretch of unclaimed water."

Kukai hummed in thought. He craned his neck over Ikuto's shoulder, following his gaze. "Makes sense that he'd think it a good place to hide. It's open territory, right? Ripe for the picking. " He mused. "Shame, though. I was hopin' for somethin' of a desert feel, ya know? Ya think they might be volcanic?"

Ikuto couldn't say, but it wasn't important. He folded the map up carefully and glanced up at his crew. There were more men filtering up through the hatchway by now, stepping sluggishly across the deck and wincing under the strength of the sun. He would have to push them onwards if they were to make their journey in good time. Such a close call in that tavern had been a mistake and Ikuto scolded himself for not considering all of the risks before allowing them time on-shore. Most of his men were either sleep-deprived or still drunk… And then there was Kukai - the cause of all their troubles. The idiot didn't even look hungover. There was a burning injustice in that thought and so Ikuto just left it. His head was starting to spin again. He sent Kukai up into the crow's nest as punishment for the rest of the day (the moron was so energetic, being left up in such a tight space for hours on end would be _maddening_ ) and turned away.

Well, the Shining Black might have had a close call - her crew might have been bested and her Captain worse for wear - but she would make it. Ikuto vowed it. At least he wasn't doomed to spent his day cooped up in his cabin, staring endlessly at Kazuomi's infamous map. His brain couldn't have coped with that today, so really Ikuto was utterly relieved to know that they already had their course - that somewhere beyond that horizon would rise their first port of call.

The first island…

Ikuto smirked.

And he revelled in the notion that his stepfather didn't even know what was coming to him.

~.~.~

By the end of that week, Tadase was almost c _ertain_ that they had the Shining Black within their sights.

True, it was a bold claim for any man to make and, fair enough, he realised that this sudden notion would sound more than a _little_ far-fetched once word found its way to the King and Queen, but at this point Tadase wasn't entirely sure he cared. If it weren't for the fact that he was preoccupied, he might have been bothered by the nonchalance that seemed to creep up on him - that seemed to seep into his attitude - every time His Majesty's name was mentioned, yet somehow he just couldn't find himself to dwell on it. Besides, he figured that his pride was still more than a little wounded after his conversation with the King's advisor, Kairi, only days before. It was clear enough that His Majesty's faith in him had begun to wane just as it was clear that Tadase was more than riled by the King's new choices. Whatever this so-called 'new scheme' that Kairi had alluded to upon his visit was, Tadase did not like the sound of it. Since when had his navy sunk so low in the King's eyes?

Did he not trust them?

Did he no longer trust his favourite Commander?

The Commander himself brushed the niggling thought away hurriedly, if fiercely, as one might brush off an irritating wasp. ' _New scheme'_ indeed… How on earth did Amu's father think he'd find her if not through his own navy?

It didn't make sense (though Tadase could no longer think straight enough to try and decipher His Majesty's reasoning anymore), but the Commander was determined to continue on unfazed. He would restore the Royal Family and the King's pride in his navy all at once - two birds with one stone! Their runaway royal would be returned to them in a matter of months. Or so he told himself again and again, the mantra growing ever stronger as he recalled the news that Rima had delivered to him that morning.

At that very moment one of his naval vessels was pursuing a nameless ship across the southern seas - a dark ship; mighty and foreboding and just mere _days_ ahead of his men. They had followed the wreckage of a nearby vessel that had gone down not long before and, though they could not yet descry any white diamond or spot through their looking-glass any smudge of pastel pink, Tadase had no doubt about it.

It looked as though (finally!) their endeavour might have been near it's end.

Tadase hoped that he would have the chance to at least catch up to this ominous craft before his men were forced to open fire. Oh, what he would have given to set foot upon the Shining Black itself if only to hew down that fluttering, diamond sail and raise His Majesty's flag in its place or to see for himself that that entire band of ragtag cutthroats were brought to justice as deserved, for he was now far above the oh-so infantile impulse of vengeance that had once driven him to his journey's end. No… He would quell his temper. He would tame it; tether it; shove it deep within his chest and bind it to the back of his mind until the time truly came to bask in the victory of his success. He would stay his blade and see those scoundrels bound in iron chains and he would sail them all the way back to Seiyo - every last one of them! - and he would walk them one by one up to the courthouse where they would each receive the sentences they so dearly deserved.

Walk them to the courthouse. Escort them to the square. Watch them dance the jig of death as they hung upon the gallows…

Good, just, honourable men were inevitably brought to glory before the merciful judge, after all. But those men were so far strayed from the light that their doom was already upon them.

Just how many lives had been lost to the sea by a buccan's hand? How much gold had been snatched from merchant hands? How many ships littered the ocean floor, jutting up from the seabed like skeletal, spindly stretches of coral; once mighty, now fallen? Too many, Tadase thought. It was a mercy that he'd even _considered_ granting these men the privilege of a trial. It was an act of kindness, he told himself - further proof that he, respected Commander of the King's Royal Navy, was by far a kinder, more compassionate soul than any pirate could ever be and not because of the way his gut recoiled at the memory of his then-fiancée who so passionately fought for the pirates' right to a fair sentence.

Tadase felt his chest tighten. He forcibly rid himself of the thought, shaking his head as if to dislodge any unwanted images from his mind, and did what he always did in the situation. He threw himself back into the task at hand. His day was spent with the Captain of his own Seraphic Charm. They met with admirals; spent the morning inspecting their fleet down by the docks; they sent final messages to financiers; and by the time Rima arrived in the study that afternoon and announced that his carriage would be ready on the morrow, the Commander was practically chomping at the bit.

"Perfect!" he exclaimed. "I can stand to wait no longer!" And he struggled to raise himself from his chair, for, even though he was in better shape than ever, he felt that old wound flare anew after such a long and demanding day. "Ready my men! Send word to the King!" he said once he was stood, though his brow glittered with perspiration and his teeth grit heavily. "I must devise a crew and join the chase. Ensure that word is sent to my fleet - the Seraphic Charm will soon join them. The Shining Black cannot be far!"

But, whilst the Captain was simply motivated by this display of determination, Rima's expression hardened. "But, sir…" she murmured. "I don't doubt you will find them… But how do you plan to catch up with them?"

"I have my ways, Rima, dear." he replied evasively and, now full stood, he glanced back. Through the grand, gilded window pane behind him, Tadase saw that the sun was almost ready to begin its descent. The clouds were clearing. The line above the sea was glowing a glorious, unmistakeable shade of rosy pink. High, high above the town that Tadase knew and loved, a single, solitary star had flared into existence. Tadase watched it, gazing as one caught in an unshakeable daze, until…

"Actually… Rima…"

Tadase swallowed. Suddenly he felt cold, yet his skin was bristling with anticipation.

"Ready a coach for me now…"

"Sir?"

"There is someone whom I must speak to before I go."

Tadase did not hear Rima's reply. He did not watch her bow nor observe as she left him alone in his study. No, Tadase turned back, captivated by that little light glittering humbly above their heads… And, all of a sudden, he felt a jolt of déjà-vu.

Starlight and memory and subtle lilac…

And an idea that had long perturbed him reentered his mind. It was a simple idea; a relatively harmless thought; one that he had found himself lingering upon time and time again these past few weeks, come. He had been lost in thought, drawn into the notion for quite some time and yet each time had silenced it just as quickly as it had come - each time he had remained victorious in subduing it to the back of his mind - but now…

Now Tadase could not deny it any more. And so Tadase had spent his day: he had prepared the necessities; he had hearkened to his Captain; schmoozed his admirals; and when all was well and done and all other forms of procrastination run dry, Tadase was left with no other outlet. He swallowed his pride. He bit the bullet. He grabbed his staff and boarded his coach and, before he could so much as entertain the notion of backing out - of turning tail and retreating back over the horizon and down the road to the Hotori home once more - Tadase found himself alighting, soaking in the golden light of the setting sun, and once more staring up at the face of the mansion. _That_ mansion. Atop the headland against the clouds, silhouetted against the watercolour sky and soaked in the golden, peach-pink tones of the oncoming eve.

Tadase tried to clear his throat, but found he could not. His mouth was dry. His scar was aching. As he took that first, tentative step upon the gravel drive he swore he caught a flash of a figure in the third floor window and he knew beyond doubt that there was no time to back out now.

And so Tadase was not surprised when the doors fell open of their own accord nor that his feet followed some invisible path of their own accord, walking on their own, apparently remembering their former route through this beguiling maze of many corridors and marble hallways and twisting stairwells, drawn by some otherworldly enchantment up towards those double doors, glowing softly, sublimely, with some ethereal light.

Tadase was numb, withdrawn from the world, as he placed his palm upon the handle and let them swing silently open.

Blinded for but a moment, when that mystical burst of light began to fade the universe opened up around him. A thousand eyes watched on curiously from above. This world and everything in it simply fell away and was lost to the realm of night…

"Well…"

And there, amidst it all, the playful light of his eyes mingled perfectly against the endless, star-speckled sky, sat the fortune-teller, regarding him with a mix of mischief and curiosity that made the Commander's spine tingle.

His voice was soft and subdued, echoing faintly across the high ceiling;

"You must be truly desperate to come to me, Commander."

Tadase swallowed. "Tsukasa…"

A twitch of the lips. A chuckle. With a gentle ' _chink!'_ the fortune-teller set down his cup of tea and rose slowly from his chair.

"Now, Tadase. What can I do for you?"

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : Well I finally return! Plus my fav Tsukasa is back and all is right in the world. His scenes are always my favourite to write. Also I think Fortune's grown on me? Who'd've thought?

This chapter should be the last real filler for a while. I'm feeling pretty excited to be writing again! We're finally moving on!

Anybody still here despite my awful update schedule? It's quite a long shot, but please let me know what you think and/or pester me to update in the reviews!

Thank you for reading! Til next time ~


	9. Chapter Nine

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

"Well?"

Tadase hesitated, clenching his fists and trying with every ounce of determination he could muster not to jump as the heavy wooden doors swung shut behind him. Even in the darkness the gleaming, piercing eyes of his host still watched on whilst all the world passed swiftly beyond the mansion walls.

For a moment, Tadase almost felt like turning on his heel and pounding at the doors. He felt like bolting. He felt the silence press in heavily on his ears; the atmosphere thicken; he fought to swallow soundly as every word dried up and died upon his tongue because for all his strength, there was something about this place - this _man_ \- that shook his very being to the core. Perhaps it was the way the fortune-teller looked at him - _stared_ unblinking at him as though he could delve into his very head and read his thoughts aloud at will - or perhaps it was the distant, detached sort of way he dithered here like a departed soul still bound to these walls; faded about the edges; out of place and out of time…

But whatever it was, all Tadase knew was that it set him on edge and that he did not like it. Tsukasa to him was like a cautionary tale - a trickster in a children's novel - who knew far more than he ever should about the inner workings of another's mind and, again, Tadase delayed his coming into the darkened room, afraid to linger too close to the flame.

"Well, Tadase?" said the trickster once more. "What brings you here on this fine evening?"

And reluctantly, thinking back at last to the very reason he had come here, Tadase swallowed his pride.

"I… I have come to beg."

The subtle twinkle in the fortune-teller's eye flickered almost imperceptibly, the starlight failing overhead for just a moment before managing to regain composure.

"'Beg'?" Tsukasa repeated faintly. If Tadase had been more himself, he might have thoroughly enjoyed the sight of this strange man looking so at a loss for once, but, as it was, he was far too busy nursing the last poor remnants of his failing pride. "But Tadase," Tsukasa said; "never have I asked you to _beg_ of me. My good man, I am ever at your service."

Truthfully, Tadase didn't quite know what to make of that. He eyed the curious man sceptically and, though he sought long and hard for some kind of counter to this statement, he found none. Besides, he had not come here on this night to stir up old grief. No. He had come to bow his head and… Well… What else he could not be sure, but it seemed that there was something about this place - about this home; this man; this otherworldly weave of constellations - that seemed to call to him on those darkest nights when neither moon nor stars appeared before him; when the only light left to console the weariness in his heart was the dying flame of his own ambition. And now that the hearth was cold and the galaxy twinkled softly overhead, Tadase thought now that maybe, just _maybe_ , he could afford to lower himself before the very type of trickster he had been warned about all his life.

Tadase finally crossed over the threshold of the observatory, immersing himself bodily in the dusk and beginning breathlessly; "Mr Amakawa… I'm afraid I have indeed come to beg of you. I'm afraid I must ask of you just this once for assistance."

Tsukasa raised a curious eyebrow. "Desperation truly _has_ hit you hard, Commander, for you to come to me."

The Commander ignored him. "The last time I was here, sir, you said that the stars should run their course." he said. "That the King's interference would only hinder them." And he paused, searching the fortune-teller's face intently for any sign of recognition. All Tsukasa offered in return was a subtle nod - an almost non-existent slight of the head - but Tadase caught it and, for some reason he could not explain, a flare of annoyance rose up within his chest. Perhaps, he'd think in hindsight, this whole 'begging' business had gotten the better of him. Or perhaps his body was simply rebelling against such damage to his already deflated ego. But, either way, he could not turn back now;

"It was you who led me to the realisation that the King's daughter was entwined in a buccan hunt for fairy stories. And, though I doubted you, it seems now that your words held more truth than I might have wished." he went on. "I believe the stars have run amok quite enough for my liking, Tsukasa." he said. "The King's daughter is still out there, but, for all our efforts, she cannot be found. And…" (He swallowed thickly); "And I will therefore offer you _anything_ in return for whatever these stars might tell me."

As soon as the words left his lips, Tadase slunk back, wincing, bracing himself for the inevitable humiliation that would come, yet, unbelievably, he was met with nothing but silence. If anything, Tadase had thought that the man might look on him and laugh. He had expected an air of victory; an unbearable triumph. He had prepared himself for boasting and gloating and prideful, long-winded monologues all inevitably rounding upon how glorious a day it must have been for one so spiritually closed to _finally_ come to see the light… But no. Tsukasa did none of that. Perhaps because he undoubtedly saw then that this was the Commander's last port of call. His last avenue. Last _hope_.

There was a moment of uneasy quiet. If anything, it took a long moment to sink in before Tsukasa's face fell. "Oh…" he whispered, far more gently than Tadase had ever heard him. It was almost unbearable, in fact, to feel such pitiful eyes land upon him, as strong and mighty a soldier as he was. "Oh, my dear Commander… Waiting for you I might have been, yes, but this? This I did not expect..."

"Oh _spare_ me!" Tadase cut in impatiently. "It is _all_ I ask and nothing more. Tomorrow we set sail once again and the irony is not lost upon me, I assure you! The déjà-vu is far more than I can bear, so I'd appreciate it greatly if we could get straight to the point and be done with it!"

"I see." Tsukasa sighed. He gestured towards the little table behind him where a delicate china pot of tea was still steaming even in the dim light. Tadase denied it. He watched impatiently as the fortune-teller strolled towards it. "I do apologise, Commander. Truly you have my sympathy. " said Tsukasa at last, shaking his head solemnly as he poured himself a cup of strong-smelling tea and set the teapot down beside a deck of cards. "These must be dark times indeed. But I understand your frustration. To be forced to chase the light of the stars - well…" - And he took a short sip for himself - "I bow my head to you, Tadase. It cannot be easy for one so bold to set your faith in my methods."

"I do not like it." Tadase said stiffly in response. "But I also do not like pirates."

"But, lest we forget, Her Highness is little more than a pirate herself now." Tsukasa replied, pacing aimlessly now. "Although I admit that such a word must here be applied fairly loosely." And he cast the Commander a subtle, sideways glance. Tadase was biting the inside of his cheek, his brows knit tight together, his mouth set in a firm little line… " _Oh_ …" Tsukasa breathed. A mischievous, knowing sort of smile spread across his pale face. "You don't deny it?"

Tadase hesitated perhaps too obviously. There was an edge in his voice. Beneath the many frills at the hem of his sleeves, his knuckles were turning white. "Do not think I'm blinded, Tsukasa. I was there. I was beside her when she chose her alliance."

Oh, and it was still all so vivid in his mind. The cry of the gulls. The blur of pink. The splash of the sea and the sting of the salt upon his cheeksー

"But it doesn't matter!" He shook himself fiercely of the thought. "Pirate or not, I have been entrusted to-"

"To what?" Tsukasa interrupted in a sly, prying sort of tone Tadase did not like at all. "To find her? To find Her Highness and nothing more? Forgive me, Commander, but I had heard you'd quite given up on this little search for _her._ No, I had believed you were far more anxious on finding _them_."

"I-"

"You really wish to find her? Even knowing - even _remembering_ \- just how she chose to betray your trust?"

"I…"

And, humiliatingly, Tadase found he had no more to say. Tsukasa watched him carefully as he fell forlorn into silence.

"Tadase…" He said, his voice oh-so gentle as the soft whispering of water over stones, swiftly-flowing; "Why does your heart waver so?" The fortune-teller was watching him intently, barely blinking, scrutinising his every hesitation. Overheard the enchanted stars twinkled peacefully on until all the observatory grew bathed in a gentle, yet deceptively calm glow that seemed to wash over the soldier's heart, soothing over his soul until, after a while, he uttered;

"It does not."

Yet even to the Commander himself, it sounded unconvincing - like the piteous puttering of a candle failing, weak and cold in the breeze - and, all of a sudden, to Tadase it felt as though some great weight had all at once fallen heavily upon his chest. His shoulders slumped beneath it. His breath shook. His chest felt fit to cave, though fight it he tried, and yet he could not explain it. After all… _His_ heart of all - so strong, so steadfast - would _never_ falter…

His heart - his loyalty - it lay as sure as ever towards the bright light of justice, yes…

But to Amu? To the King..?

Perhaps, now that he thought about it, it might have been best to focus his attention on Her Highness after all, for even as the memory of her father's face drifted to the fore of his mind he realised a new sense of frustration he'd never known before. It was burning. It was _crushing_. Tadase thought briefly back - back to those long afternoons spent sat in solitude in his study, silently reliving every minute of his short encounter with Kairi Sanjou until the entire incident seemed little more than one indecipherable mess; a haze; a blur and nothing more. He might as well have dreamt it, he thought, but no. The King's advisor had made enough of an impact on this Commander - had shaken him to the core quite enough - for that afternoon to have been unmistakably real. The King's assumptions of his character had run quite deep… And whatever new 'plans' that his advisor had alluded to had kept him restless for long enough.

And so, his heart undeniably heavy, Tadase was perhaps for the first time forced to admit that perhaps there was something of note in the fortune-teller's teachings.

"Tsukasa…" he said eventually and, though his gaze had fallen firmly towards his feet, his companion could sense that the brightness in his eyes had at last begun to dim in despair. "You said to me once that I should not risk my livelihood for the sake of Her Highness… That I shouldn't stray from my rightful path. That I should not give up my duty nor myself. No matter what may lay before me…"

"That I did." the fortune-teller agreed. "And will you?"

Tadase didn't answer.

"Tell me," Tsukasa said softly; "have you not noticed that, whether by loathing or longing, she has always been a part of you?"

"She is a pirate-"

"She occupies your every thought. Does she not?"

"But I cannot sit by and watch, Tsukasa!" Tadase cut in. "I cannot stand idly by and let this go undealt with! This is a breach of the peace! This is _injustice!_ This is _piracy!"_

"But, piracy or not, Commander, do you not think it unwise to steer from one's destined path?"

"Yet you said it yourself!" Tadase burst out; "The stars - they _move_ , Tsukasa, if you believe in that sort of thing! Surely routes can be _rewritten_?"

"Ah…" uttered the fortune-teller, though perhaps with a hint of hesitance. His head tilted towards the roof of his grand observatory, his brows creased subtly, his face shadowed in the dim light until even the gentle hues of his irises no longer twinkled like a thousand stars against the fabric of this faux, yet flawless night. He breathed slowly; "The routes may be rewritten, yes… But to what end, I ask? Understand that the stars will ever seek in motion towards their rightful course. I have warned you once before - of the unforeseen consequences of interference-"

"I don't understand _you…_ " the Commander whispered, shaking his head and turning his face away from the constellations. "You or your nonsense..."

And, as the starlight left his cheeks and the shadow of the night fell over form, Tsukasa looked over at him and sighed, for, with that, he sensed his hesitance - his grief and all his mind's unrest - and he knew then that the soldier was merely chasing hope where clearly he believed in none.

"Your thoughts are too unclear, Commander." Tsukasa said at length. "And I am afraid I cannot help you see the light through clouded eyes. That is a task you must alone accomplish - a feat that only you yourself may overcome."

He paused, just a little relieved that he was met with only silence and that Tadase chose not at that point to pick up a fight in protest, and brought the man over to his little desk where he forced a dainty cup of tea into his hand and watched silently as he took a sip. Tadase's eyes dulled, but his expression softened. He swirled the liquid in his hand and took a breath of steam. He smelt rosehip and a hint of hibiscus and was reminded fondly of his mother's herb garden and of the pink and rose-red buds in bloom that lined the mansion grounds, twisting and twirling against bright white trellises and fair green hedges. His body relaxed. Finally, for the first time in many days, he felt his heartbeat ease and rest to its normal pace and he became overwhelmed by an enchanting sense of calm that many men have sought, yet fewer have ever realised. And all the while Tsukasa watched him keenly and waited patiently and, when it seemed to him that his bewitchment had fully sunk into this troubled soul, the fortune-teller breathed almost imperceptibly beneath the glowing night and held his head aloft. Far above those little fireflies still danced as though lit by imperishable flame, weaving star-crossed lines about the inky blue, dazzling far-flung galaxies whirling within lilac eyes.

"Whatever ails you, Tadase, may be such an ailment that only you may heal." he whispered. "And I cannot promise you that it is in your fate to find a cure, but for now I ask you… What do you see Commander?" He said at last. And, at the other man's astonished silence; "What do you see when you look at the stars?"

Tadase, who had grown perhaps far too drawn into his own inner turmoil, blinked as one roused from a deep, deep dream. For a moment he felt cold - shocked, brought back with a _snap!_ into reality once again and, though he still marvelled at the same sights; smelt the same tea; felt his subconscious soothe, growing awash a great calm as though under some spell at the sound of the fortune-teller's voice; he felt at once as if he'd been dragged bodily back into existence, but he remembered his predicament and he remembered his place and so, sheepishly, he shoved away all remnants of the curious astrologer's charm and turned his head towards those twinkling lights. Eventually, he cleared his throat.

"Dust." he uttered finally. "Infinitesimal specks of dust." Tsukasa sent him a sideways look, but it was unreadable - the very definition of stoic - so Tadase said nothing of it. He continued on, his jaw tight, his voice slowly fading, losing its lustre in the void of empty space all about them. "That's all there is to it. Particles of lingering light trying in vain to break through the barren darkness… But to no avail. Drifting without aim. Suspended. Lost - caught helplessly amidst the dark…"

And, again, all faded into silence. Tadase's gaze fell and settled on a spot by his feet where the reflected stars faintly smudged the polished floorboards. Then, after some thought, Tsukasa chuckled;

"Dust?" He repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Huh… Well, that's bleak outlook on this world if ever I've heard one."

"What would you have liked me to say?" Tadase shrugged. "Should I recite poetry next time perhaps? Sing a song? Your head may forever be in the clouds, Tsukasa, but mine is not. Personally I have always preferred the clear light of day."

"Ah," Tsukasa said, though Tadase wasn't quite convinced by his tone. "And therein lies the problem, Commander. Therein lies the _ailment_." He strode to his desk, set down his tea and one by one he swept across the great expanse of the observatory, extinguishing in a puff of smoke all the little candles dotted about the room and with every little lantern snuffed from existence his eyes seemed to grow all the brighter in the dark. "Your eyes are not quite trained, Tadase, if all you notice is the contrast between light and dark."

Tadase frowned. He set his empty cup on the nearest table and looked about blindly in the dark. "What do you mean?"

From somewhere in the distance, Tsukasa's voice echoed eerily off the walls; "You see this night in black and white - every star as but a grain of salt in the sea. But that is not what I see."

"No." Tadase cut in as the older man rejoined his side at last. "You probably see rainbows and miracles where there are none."

"But it is _true_ ," Tsukasa said; "A rainbow as we might know it may be hard to come by, but these heavens - they are _littered_ with the light of a thousand stars and each and every one of them shine unique! Come!" - and he leaned down to the younger man's height and pointed towards the roof of his observatory. - "I urge you, when next the sunlight dwindles and the first dark of night begins to fall, I pray you will watch, Commander. I _pray_ you watch this performance play out before your very eyes and you shall see that there is life even above our heads. Look closer - at the galaxies; at the clouds; look to the moonlight as it shines upon the silver sea and follow the passage of the changing night - and one day, sir, I pray you realise that there is light and colour up there that cannot be found here even on this earth." And, at last, Tsukasa paused. And he smiled; "There is no such thing as black and white within our world, Commander. Not here - nor there… And, one day, I hope you realise it."

There was a pause. Still riding the wave of calm that had come upon him, Tadase found that he could not even be angry at the man's incessant riddling. On the contrary, he could have laughed. He set down his tea;

"Is that your subtle way of saying you cannot help me, Tsukasa?"

"No." the fortune-teller replied. "It is my subtle way of asking you to keep your head turned ever skyward and to stop looking out so desperately across the sea."

"I can't say that I don't appreciate your efforts," Tadase whispered, fighting back the smile that was threatening to tug on the corners of his lips; "but this is hardly the night sky. The _true_ night sky, I mean."

"Ah, that may be so," Tsukasa agreed; "but it is almost time. The stars will make their appearance soon, yet they sadly cannot talk to one so blind…" Tadase almost scoffed at this, yet there was no disdain in the way he rolled his eyes or curled his lip and Tsukasa smiled at it. "But they say a great deal about you, Commander."

Intrigued, he raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"You might see black and white for now, Commander. But I hope that someday - someday soon - you might grow to appreciate all the spaces in-between."

"I see…" Tadase sighed and inwardly he cursed himself, his cheeks burning pink in humiliation, for what had he really come here for tonight? A full-blown fortune-telling? From _Tsukasa Amakawa_ of all people? How absurd, he thought now as his mind began to clear and his temper began to settle. "So perhaps it is folly after all."

Tsukasa frowned. "Oh?"

"You did not wish me to follow Her Highness the first time." he went on. "Perhaps I have already… How did you put it? 'Strayed' from my path after all?"

"On the contrary." Tsukasa began and, all of a sudden, Tadase turned toward him and saw that his face was stern and his gleaming eyes were serious and knowing:

"This may be your last chance to find it."

~.~.~

And so that night when darkness fell the little lights of those many constellations seemed to stir from their slumber, twinkling gently across their fortune-teller's face as he walked once more amidst the heavenly void - beneath the galaxies and above the heavens and across the string of starlight through til morning when the first fine rays of the newborn sun set alight the many sails of the Commander's fleet even as they slipped slowly over the pale horizon. And, all the while, Tsukasa watched, as ever, in silence and turned his head towards the sky and sighed;

"And so it begins again…" he said as softly as the gentle dawn caressed his cheeks. "These stars - they're overlapping; many paths meeting on the trail of the white diamond flag… But who will find who first, I wonder?"

"But I see a change in the wind - A blot on the horizon! Clouds are gathering, little soldier, and I pray you heed my every word..."

And, finally, the sails slipped wholly out of sight. The gulls cried overhead. And, in the background, he heard it…

There was a chiming on his desk. Beside his cards. Repeating endlessly atop the broken music box- ( _Tick. Tick. Tick!_ ) - and, almost instantly, Tsukasa felt his heart grow heavy.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

"Oh, little tin man," he said and he watched that sorry sight - that desperate spectacle he had seen played out so many countless times before as the soldier tried to stand - tried to push against the tireless force of gravity and whirl again, yet feebly, utterly futile as the broken cogs kept ticking in that off-key beat of ' _tick, tick, tick!'_ -

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

"The maiden sinks beyond his reach, but, though he tries..."

 _Tick. Tick. Tick._

"Oh, though he tries…"

 _Tick!_

And, finally, the tin man froze.

 _Tick!_

"He cannot stand."

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : I'm so disappointed, this is really only half a chapter, but I couldn't get a full-length update done in time. I've been studying abroad for a few weeks which didn't leave me with much time to do anything. I wrote this feeling very, _very_ jet-lagged.

This will probably be re-written one day because I'm not entirely happy with it, but I just wanted to post something! I'm all antsy when I don't update regularly! Plus anyone who's still here knows that I'm definitely not abandoning this fic.

Please feel free to mercilessly pester me for updates in the review box! Thank you!


	10. Chapter Ten

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

Amu could always tell when something was amiss.

It was uncanny - a strange, albeit unsettling little quirk to her character that, really, she'd have been quite better off without, in her opinion, but, for all she'd tried, she couldn't help it. It was just a gut feeling. It was an uncomfortable shiver settling over the back of her neck; blooming beneath her beating heart and blooming 'til her hairs stood, the chill spread as bitter frost across her back. It was unnervingly like being watched, only never being able to catch the culprit's piercing gaze to every lay the blame, and it was exactly in this way that she'd always been acutely aware of the subtle changes that signalled something gone awry.

She'd known when she'd sat in her carriage that very first night. She had known when weeks had passed within the palace walls and her most trusted maid remained inexplicably 'called away' every time she'd been to ask. She had known that day so many months ago when her father interrupted her afternoon studies to duly inform her that her worth and wishes and all her livelihood had been sold and shipped away across the seas - that the voyage through life on which she sailed had been cast afar to uncharted ends. And Amu knew now as she picked her way across the deck of the Shining Black that there was definitely, _undeniably_ something quite out of place in the air that morning.

She tried not to stare too obviously as Ikuto exchanged some apparently tense words with the helmsman on the upper decks. Utau was at his side and an old spyglass was held firm in his grip. He kept turning it over restlessly in his hands, juggling it from one palm to the other as if the thing were comprised of hot coal, yet still he looked reluctant to stow it safely away beneath his coat. Whatever had come over him, Amu had not heard the details… But even without her remarkable sense of precognition, Amu had a hunch that it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

After all… It was all around them. There was a static in the air - a heaviness beneath their sails that had the crew trading about the deck of the ship looking oddly subdued; hushed as though truly fearful to break the quiet, unsteady sort of equilibrium all about them.

In that moment Amu startled. A piercing, shrill wail echoed between the edge of the sails, foreboding and terrible as anything she'd ever heard and the young woman near jumped out of her skin, fearing that what she'd heard was the dreadful wail of a crewmate falling dramatically to their death, but was just as shaken to realise that it was in fact the unholy shriek of the wind as it rattled through the rigging, shaking beams and tugging on yards like the limbs of an old tree caught up in a tumult. Above her head the sails were flapping. The stays were clanking. Even further skyward the clouds were bearing down upon the tips of their masts, grey and gloomy, their bellies sagging languidly as they grew fat and thick upon the breeze, devouring the last blue streaks left alight in the heavens. To Amu it felt then as though the world beyond had disappeared. It felt as if those clouds were closing in, creeping ever nearer until the sun and the sea and the Shining Black were all devoured - lost to the light of the outside world and doomed to sail the dark spaces between forevermore.

As soon as the thought entered her head, Amu forcibly shook it out. It conjured up old sea-shanties and unlucky man's fables that sang sombre songs of all the damned, deceased crews that scuttled along the seabed, rising only in the dead of night, reigning over realms of darkness and despair the likes of which only death could bring upon them. Yet, try as she might, the tension was building, the humidity gathering as Amu hurried along, her arms laden with little bundles of what passed as supper aboard the Shining Black. At the very least, this was a much better system than the free-for-all attitude to rations that had persisted before aboard this ship. She nudged the nearest man beneath the mainmast and offered him an extra helping of food, tilting her head skyward.

"Provisions for that idiot up there."

The pirate cracked a smile. He gratefully took the bundle from her and took a sneaky mouthful of bread for himself before facing the ratlines and clambering up to the crow's nest where a familiar, disgruntled-looking rusty-haired crewmate was perched miserably above deck. Kukai had been utterly miffed to be sent up to the nest first thing in the morning and for a while it had been amusing to pass him by and laugh mischievously at his displeasure, but now there was a change in the wins and a whistle in the sails that had the pirate disregard his dissatisfaction and Amu was set thoroughly on edge to look up and find their usually jolly, comical companion hunched over at his post. His brows were creased, his lips pulled taut and an unusually stony look on his face. A weather eye kept darting worriedly over the horizon as if expecting something unpleasant to launch headfirst over the grey line of the sea at them at any moment… And not without good reason.

To the north - where the head of the prow just barely touched the belly of the clouds - there was a dark, grey smudge across the skyline.

And it was moving. Fast. Rolling and rumbling and swelling like some primordial beast devouring all within its path.

When Amu had awoken that morning, it had been so dark that she'd been convinced it was still dawn and had promptly gone back to sleep. (That is, until Ikuto had come along and just about hauled her out of bed with a glint in his eye that signalled both danger and delight.) And now she could see why, for it seemed that the beast was relentless. She furtively glanced back over her shoulder and saw that Ikuto's face held a grim expression beneath the brim of his hat. He was whispering quickly with his sister on the forecastle now. Tentatively, Amu milled her way about the deck, handing out the last of her provisions, until she could just about hear the low drawl of his voice.

Over the persistent howl of the worsening weather, words such as 'thunder' and 'wreck' were all Amu could make out, but they sent chills down her spine like nothing else could.

Behind her the darkness was spreading like an inkblot across the sky. Resigning herself to the idea that she probably didn't want to know the details of their predicament just yet, Amu quickly hurried away and headed back for the galley. At the very least it was calmer down here below the deck and the incessant moaning of the wind was shielded from her ears. The constant flicker of lamplight deep down on these darkest levels gave her the unshakeable impression that the night had already fallen - that the danger had passed and the ship lulled into the welcoming embrace of the restful dark of the night. She could almost kid herself that she'd already been working long and hard into the wee small hours and, it had to be said, it was a preferable illusion to the murky reality above.

"Ah, Ya Maj'sty!" a cheerful voice rang clear amidst the darkness. "Ain't Yaya glad to see you! C'mere! Sit! Lend Yaya a willin' hand an' help get some o' this grog outta the way before the crew gets wind of it."

Yaya's usual cheer and optimism was warm and bright enough to drive the far-off shadow from Amu's mind. She smiled gratefully, abandoning her leftover rations on the table.

"What's all this?"

Yaya was at that moment surrounded by various bottles and kegs of various sizes. The cupboards were thrown open; the ale cabinet bare. Beside her was a strong-smelling barrel that leaked amber liquid and made her eyes sting the longer she stood near it. Rows and rows of containers were illuminated in the soft candlelight, each murmuring softly, filling the lull with endless voices as their contents sloshed gently inside. Liquor lasted longer than fresh water aboard a ship, after all, but Yaya had proved herself to be quite possessive of it. Never before had the stuff been included in the crew's daily rations, yet now their new cook seemed determined to keep it stowed securely behind lock and key. The young girl raised a pointed finger and said, with wisdom beyond her years;

"Yaya may not know much about the workin's of this here ship, ma'am, but Yaya won't have her men befuddled by booze unless in great celebration - and you can lay to that!" she said. She held up a bottle of dark brown stuff (it's label was missing) and shook it as if to cement her point. "Yaya's set to ration her grog just like everythin' else! Yaya's worked behind the tap enough in her life. Yaya knows men won't be trusted!"

Amu laughed lightly. Such an stern expression on such a small girl was oddly endearing. Yaya went on.

" _Especially_ after the shenanigans Her Maj'sty and Kukai got themselves into the last time liquor flowed free between them!"

Yaya was, of course, thinking quite specifically of the sight of Amu and Ikuto and their whole brood of hungover pirates arriving breathless and bloodied on deck after their little incident in the tavern brawl, but, unsurprisingly, Amu had different memories from that night.

"Wha-What?" She stuttered, perhaps a little too quickly to be inconspicuous.

The scent of dried lavender and rum overwhelmed her senses.

By the time Yaya turned back to retrieve another bottle, Amu was sure her cheeks were scarlet.

"Frightful stuff!" the girl said to herself. She was busy rolling the bigger barrels beneath a row of antique cabinets, the only place she apparently seemed secure enough to store this precious cargo. To her left was a trap in the floor, the hatchway flung wide open. In times perhaps well passed, it looked to have been the entrance to a keep for livestock, yet now it was being repurposed and padlocked all in order to serve as Yaya's secret speakeasy. "A blessin' aboard Her Maj'sty's vessel, no doubt, but _frightful_ , addictive stuff! As nectar to the gods, it is, but the men 'ave got a taste for it an' Yaya don't know how far this grog'll stretch if everyone keeps helpin' 'emselves!"

Well, it made sense, Amu mused as she watched the barmaid at work. In the meantime (for Yaya was almost done by herself - and with energy to spare!) the Princess admired the smaller, more sophisticated antique bottles that were laid out neatly upon the tabletop, waiting patiently for their turn to visit the cabinet. Most of them were marked with faded, yellowed parchment, inked with not the contents, but the years in which they were made. She scrutinised the dates - though near-illegible most of them were, covered in crusted black inkblots or otherwise smudged beyond repair. These were far more agreeable than the spirits most of the men liked to drink. Their sweet, fruity scents rose before her face and lingered in the still ait as she passed them by. For all the cruel deeds he had done in the past, it had to be said that their former Captain had a truly fine taste in wine. Perhaps she would save some for later, Amu thought, to help ease their current Captain's nerves.

Amu reached for one of the bottles, her fingertips lingering lightly on the crisp, curled label about its neck-

' _Captain…'_

She froze.

" _Are you trying to get me drunk?"_

Amu flushed-

" _That depends… Do I have to?"_

-and immediately dropped the bottle in her grasp back onto the table, her cheeks glowing brilliantly. Her heart fluttering wildly in her chest, Amu tried her best to turn her thoughts back to the present when-

"What's the matter?" Yaya piped up across the room. She rolled a keg of what looked (and smelled) suspiciously like Ichinomiya's best old brandy into the bottom of the cabinet and dusted off her hands on the front of her apron. "Ya Maj'sty's got an awful red glow. Are ye well?"

"I-I'm fine!"

A hum. A scratch of the head. Yaya narrowed her eyes in response. "You're not as convincing a liar as I thought, Ya Maj'sty, if you'll not mind a lass sayin' so." And she leaned back down through the open hatchway, reaching about in the dark for whatever Amu could not guess before producing n old, heavy-looking brass key out of apparently nowhere and triple-checking the lock just to be sure. "Settle them nerves an' drink up! Here ya go!"

There was a heavy ' _thonk!'_ and the gleam of firelight on bottleneck. Yaya was proffering to her the biggest, darkest bottle of rum in existence.

Only rum was the very last thing Amu wanted to see right now.

"Drink up!" the girl repeated. "Ya Maj'sty's looking pinker by the minute!"

Amu would have liked to refute that claim, but the burning beneath her skin said otherwise. Since that night, Amu hadn't been particularly fond of drinking. Well, nothing much stronger than wine anyway.

Yaya sighed loudly. She produced two deep-set goblets, uncorked the bottle between her teeth and plonked herself down across the table, shaking her head and eyeing her sympathetically as one can only do having spent enough nights behind the bar to know the troubles in a man's eyes upon first reflection.

"Somethin's on ya mind, Your Highness?"

Yaya's eyes were wide and doe-like in the gentle candlelight. Unexpectedly, Amu's heart wavered. She could feel her resolve crumbling.

Eventually, she sighed.

"I just…" Amu fought to find the words. "Ah, it doesn't matter, Yaya…"

Besides, Amu already knew her troubles.

" _I must say…"_

" _There are times when I find you far too tempting."_

The smell of brandy on his breath was as strong in her mind as it had been in real life. Her stomach clenched.

What if he had not meant it? After all… He had been drunk. And she had run away. Humiliation still burned deep down in her heart for that, but, in the end, it didn't even matter. Because if Ikuto indeed remembered it… Well, then he did not say.

Something strange took a sudden tug within her chest.

' _So why am I so disappointed?'_

Sighing heavily, Amu glanced warily at the still-shining glass before her. Perhaps Yaya was right, she thought. Perhaps this was the sort of stuff that should be kept hidden away under lock and key, for it made matters of the mind so unnecessarily complicated that it almost wasn't worth the trouble.

 _Almost_.

"Ugh, never mind. By the way, I've had enough of rum to last me a lifetime." For the life of her, Amu couldn't keep the disheartened tone from her voice, but, at this point, she wasn't sure she cared. "Uncork some of Ichinomiya's old wine before it gets locked up forever and we'll toast to the old bastard's ill health."

Yaya beamed. "Tha's the spirit!" She got up from the table. Uneasy atmosphere gone, she skipped over to the cabinet and rooted around in the cupboard. "There's an old treasure in here pressed an' prepped on the eve the crownin' of Her Maj'sty's father hisself!"

With that, Amu had almost forgotten her troubles. Yaya was chattering happily, laughing light as the spill of the wine as it flowed, rich and red, dancing delicately in the swirling depths of the silvertine goblet, shining like stardust in the fading light-

And then, all of a sudden, leapt from the vessel and onto the deck below.

At first the ladies thought that something had hit them. Before either of them knew what was going on, the planks seemed to drop beneath them. There was an almighty goan and out of the blue bottles were shattering; pots and pans and hanging ladles falling with almighty clatters to the floor; the table slid to port so forcefully that Amu's chair was torn from its side and teetered dangerously on the edge its legs before slumping with a sicking ' _THUNK!'_ against the nearest, now splintered cabinet.

When the girls had regained their rightful balance, there was a clamour climbing up above. There was the thumping and thudding of boots; the ear-splitting creak of the timbers; and then - _there! -_ Amu heard it;

"But it must be all hands on-deck!" Yaya cried and the two girls jumped up at once from the table, pressing their way through the galley and into the darkness of the hold beyond. All about them there rang the echoes of many voices; of thunderous footfalls and half-yelled commands. Up on the gun decks men were hurrying to seal the cannon ports and the smell of tar lingered so strong in the air that Amu's eyes were stung as she and Yaya fought their way through the throng, their footsteps utterly drowned beneath the relentless clanging of bells and whistles.

When Amu first emerged onto the deck, battling against the wind and spray, the sky was so dark that it was hard to believe that they hadn't sailed straight beyond the world and over the edge of night.

The first she knew was the cold; the bitter hissing beneath the hull; the growing roar of the almighty gale that echoed through every nook and hollow that the Shining Black had to spare. Already the wind was sputtering painfully against her ears. The clouds - once grey and benign - were an ominous black. The tide had risen. The rain had begun to fall. The horizon had opened up and there beyond the prow the face of the storm opened up like the black, gaping maw of some untameable beast and swallowed the sea by the whole. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was like an empty space upon the sky - a whirling, rumbling void utterly rid of light. Amu heard the yards groan and felt the desk rise and fall swiftly beneath her feet as she ran down the gangway, searching for splash of blue about the growing din. All the while the crew scuttled frantically around her. Somewhere along the way, Yaya left her side to help a fallen sailor who had slipped from a low rung along the ratlines. There were cries ringing out, orders being barked, but their words were lost on the sudden sweep of the wind as all about them the gale grew. A sudden gust threatened to knock the Princess off her feet as she scrambled up the companionway, her skirts catching and tripping her feet on the slippery steps.

There was a tension in the air - palpable and pressing even amidst the upheaval of the elements - and, from her new vantage point, Amu watched the chaos unravel in utter horror, wondering if not she should have been more afraid, for even the most hardened men amongst them were twisting about in terror, their eyes wide and faces ashen, muttering prayers that were lost to the wind as they fruitlessly tried to work the ship into submission.

And no wonder their efforts were wasted. The Shining Black was quickly falling to the mercy of the ocean's unrest. As Amu's hand met the edge of the bulwark for support she saw that far ahead the clouds were beginning to merge into the very sea itself in a blurry haze - as if the watercolours of a murky palate had begun to mix and trickle lazily into a dreary canvas onto which there shone no light; no colour nor life. Amu swallowed. It was true that in all these months she'd spent at sea they had been indescribably lucky to avoid any formidable squall that crossed their path, skirting silently and swiftly around it and leaving the sea to whatever foul plans it had in store. It had been quite a remarkable feat, but now Amu gazed fore and, at the sight of her crewmates, she knew then that their inexplicable streak of good fortune had worn thin.

Below on the main deck Amu saw Kukai scrambling down from the crow's nest. He landed with a heavy ' _thud!'_ and nearly slipped on the now-slick planks, shaking a fresh, fine coverage of spray and salt from his soggy hair. It was a wonder he hadn't broken he neck. He was handing Ikuto a compass (though where he had come from Amu could not guess) and gesturing wildly out across the waters.

"There's nothin' for it, Cap'n!" Kukai rose his voice over the gathering roar of the gale, his expression ashen as he followed Ikuto up onto the upper deck. "North ta west that tempest blows an' south Seiyo's colours are a-flyin' in the wind! Cap'n, we're so _close-_ "

"Kazuomi's damned isle will still be there when the storm dies!" Utau appeared at their side. "Fly a naval flag and we'll tear it down! Ride through this squall and we don't stand a chance-"

"They'll run us down like _dogs!"_

Utau snarled; "Fight like a man and you need not be hang'd like a dog!"

"That's _enough."_ Ikuto's tone was as cold and pressing as the rain that had begun to wash upon the deck. "I will _not_ turn back to run into the King's fleet!"

"They will not stay there!" Utau argued. "Once word reaches of the squall they will turn back to spare their sails! There are other isles there - little inlets where we might ride out the brunt of the waves."

"I will not risk my crew." Ikuto said. His words just barely reached them over the growing wail of the wind and the waves and, whatever followed, Amu could not hear, for it was then that the first streak of lightning flashed across the sky, writhing and leaping from cloud to cloud in time to the roar of distant thunder. Heated words and quick remarks passed between brother and sister then, if there expressions were anything to judge by, and something akin to defiance flared in Utau's wide eyes, but, whatever it was, she said nothing of it. Amu had stopped listening by then. She was making her way across the top deck, throwing rope and twine and other little necessities to nearby men who called for her help, unable to tear themselves away from the lines as they fought to keep their sails from fanning out of control, when Ikuto appeared behind her. A hand was on her shoulder. Another on the small of her back. His lips were moving, but his words were carried away by the wind.

" _What?"_

"I said you should go to your cabin!"

Amu opened her mouth to protest, but at that moment Ikuto's eyes were lit by a dazzling sheet of lightning and she saw that his brows were creased, his lips taut and expression stern. Whatever she meant to say, he was not about to put up with any argument.

"Let me _help_ , Ikuto!" Amu cried over the calamity, steading herself on one of the ratlines.

"There's nothing you can do - there's nothing _any_ of us can do."

"But-But the ship-"

"She's faced worse than this," Ikuto said, though Amu had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying to sound far more confident than he felt. "She'll ride this one out."

Amu hoped to God he was right. She'd never been afloat amidst a storm before - never so much as faced a spate of thunder unless on dry land.

All of a sudden the deck lurched beneath their feet and Amu nearly with it. When she'd regained her balance, Ikuto was by her side. He cast a grim look over the horizon and found her hand beneath the bulwark.

" _Hold your ground!"_

A gust of wind wracked across the deck of the ship and tore the breath from her throat. Spray was flying. The billow of her skirts was dragging her aft. She could barely hear the whistles and warning bells sounding on every deck and, as the Shining Black ploughed into the oncoming tide, teetering on her hull and swaying as if suspended on strings, Amu couldn't help but reach for the man by her side. She braced herself, her fingers dug into his sleeve.

How could they possibly bear through this unscathed?

Amu had never known chaos like this in all her life.

"Amu?"

She hadn't even realised how tightly she'd gripped at his coat - had no idea how his voice had even found her for the rest of the calamity.

As the deck rose and fell and then rose again, leaning dangerously onto starboard, she felt Ikuto's arm snake securely round her waist, for without his support she feared she might fall. The sails were taunt. The stays were clanking in a damning, discordant rhythm. The Shining Black was fettered by fear abound. It was in the eyes of the crew; in the moan of her masts; it was choking at Her Highness' heart in a vice-like grip as she and Ikuto braced themselves for the worst that was yet to come.

The darkness was approaching.

"I'd hold on tight if I were you, Your Highness," Ikuto said. "The sea's not through with us yet."

And, before Amu knew it, the clouds had consumed them.

~.~.~

When the clouds finally parted and the rain finally ceased - when the spray had settled and the winds had died to a dull, defeated drone - a dismal, dreary dawn encompassed their beaten craft.

The crew of the Shining Black were spent. Dizzy and drained and drenched to the bone, defeated in both spirit and body, it was perhaps a small wonder that they had even managed to drag their ship away from the dying path of the storm in the first place, for it seemed to them that an entire age had passed in which they'd been locked in the relentless grasp of some leviathan, caught helplessly between a battle of sea and sky raging furiously all around them.

They had at last limped away, struggling against the battered rudder, staggering away as a beaten beast and somehow, beyond all hope, they'd turned away from the open waters and sought shelter. Somewhere below it was said they'd taken on water. Up on the afterdeck, the helmsman was mumbling between nonsensical chatter that the tiller was almost in tatters. Even as they trudged silently on (for they were all too weary to speak and most men were close to collapsing on-deck) they heard high above the ominous, heart-stopping squeals and creaks of the spars atop their heads; they saw the torn sails jerk in the whip of the failing wind; and they knew that all too soon at least one of them would threaten to spring loose altogether.

But, at the very least, the storm had subsided. A whole day and night it had taken them - a fruitless day and a blind, bedraggled night - the dark of which was the worst hazard of all. The spray extinguished all their lamps. The clouds blocked out all starlight. They'd felt the ship turn suddenly and sharply beneath the brunt of the gale, yet for the life of them they couldn't tell in which direction the squall had seen fit to send them and so here they found themselves now, their backs to the dark smudge of the cloud and rain that roared away behind them, furious and frightening, yet thankfully far off. As the first light swept feebly on the horizon, Amu stood shivering on the forecastle and saw that the squall was turning west, well away from their chosen path, and breathed an almighty sigh of relief.

Yet they could not help but feel that something about that dreadful ordeal still lingered. The storm that had nearly consumed them - that had nearly sent them straight to the depths of the Locker, swallowed by the sea, left to flail and founder along the bottom of the deep forever - was retreating, sure enough… But still there hung a thin, grey haze; a veil cloaked about the sky, filtering out all light, submerging their world in a dull, despondent sort of shadow. The wind was as ice. The salt of the sea stung upon their cheeks. Sheets of rain still washed the slippery deck, falling so light and fine that it grew almost impossible to distinguish from the ever-constant spray that flew from beneath the prow…

And, through it all - through the feeble drizzle and the dim rays of the dawn, sunken amidst the rolling, grey waves of the incoming tide - Amu and the rest of the crew found themselves staring at what looked at first to be the shape of some giant, defeated creature.

Arched and undefined was its back as it rose about the morning mist; rugged was its face and stubby limbs. As an animal in the throes of its final moments it lay sprawled about the ocean waves, slumping sluggishly headfirst into the still-frothing waters. Truly it looked to them at first glance to be the body of some great, ancient sea beast - of a legend; some awesome being of myth that had weathered the squall and yet, for all its might, had come off worse, floating forevermore atop a watery grave where all who passed might stop and marvel in wonder at its form, left to dream of old tales long beyond recall.

They drew nearer, creeping steadily closer towards such a wonder. Amu stood aft and peered over the side of the ship at this fallen beast until she swore she could descry rugged peaks, points of stone tumbling down towards the water, and thick patches of mossy green and down, down, below, the distant line of some sandy shore laid about its feet like a thread beneath the fog…

And at last the illusion faded, washed away by the rain and swept out to the sea… And they all knew then that they had made it.

Rising up from the sea before them was an island. _The_ island. The first of Captain Kazuomi Ichinomiya's fabled hideouts.

And they knew not what awaited them on-shore.

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : What's a piece of pirate fiction without an inconvenient storm? It is a cheesy staple of the genre that I have been dying to use. Even if I did gloss over it a bit. I was hoping when I planned this fic for a really dramatic, awesome set of scenes in which they weathered the storm, but I've been pressed for time lately.

I didn't mean to gloss over Amu and Yaya's interactions earlier either. I'm sorry. It's on my list to rework someday.

Anyway who's ready for some _island adventuring?_ Even if you're not, I sure as hell am. Let's get this fic moving.

Predictions? Suggestions? General criticisms? I'd love to hear them, so please feel free to drop me a comment in the review box! Thank you!


	11. Chapter Eleven

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

The crew were gathered about the deck, all craning their necks over the sides to catch their first glimpse of the isle they had so long searched for, but were wholly silent. Amu's mind was reeling. As if by fate they had been guided to it; led to it; picked up by the sea itself and dropped from high above right onto their proper course, but somehow, as they drew ever nearer, it seemed to them that the haze only grew thicker. The wind grew sharper - more startling. It was almost as though the island could _feel_ their presence; could sense their approach and saw fit to rebel against their cause as they inched onward, for it was then that the sea grew uneasy beneath their hull once more and the Shining Black began to stumble, unimpressed, already at her limit having faced the full force of their night's battle with the elements.

Ikuto looked almost sympathetic as he paced the deck, glancing warily at the groaning lines above and praying silently that she would hold out long enough for them to make it to shore. Even Amu, who still knew so little about the intricate workings of such a grand vessel, knew that they would have to somehow make it to land in good time if they were to keep her from falling into disrepair. The men had tried what they could, of course, but they had been expressly forbidden from climbing the masts until they were safely aground. The ropes were still too slippery, Kukai had said when Amu had caught him eyeing up a twisted yard, and, more to the point, their crewmates were too weak.

This island then would have to be their salvation. As much their refuge as it had been Kazuomi's… But Amu had never seen anything so far from it. She had often thought that this way of life offered unto her a small bubble of freedom - a little sanctuary of their own where there lay nothing save the ship and the sea and their own free spirits, spared from the workings of the world beyond. Aboard the Shining Black, their isolation was their respite. But this place… This place felt more like a trap. This place looked to be the sort of land where that lack of contact became a curse; where no one could hear you cry for help; where a person might wander until their feet grew lost and their head became weary and under the watch of the eternal mist they would vanish from all memory - fading out of knowledge and disappearing forever from the world itself. In some ways, it looked to her almost akin to some of those misty, oriental scenes from far-flung lands that she'd watched her mother's maids hang up in the palace library… But here -in the very midst of these boundless waters - it felt extraordinarily out of place. And that, for whatever reason, was unsettling.

Amu thought briefly, as she watched that isle rise out of the sea, that the apprehension in her heart was not solely her own. The atmosphere lay as tense as the fog that enshrouded the shore as they neared the sand. The crew worked silently, using but the bare minimum of sound they could get by on, and to Amu this set their newest expedition off to the most troubling of starts, for these men had long learned to live with a spring in their step and a song in their hearts, yet here they shrank, sullen and silent back into their steps, quailing as they had not done since under their former Captain's reign. But Amu thought she understood. She supposed that that old shadow had begun to creep over their spirits once again now that they inched so close to that reminder of their old foe.

Certainly she felt for them. Nervously, she chanced a look in Ikuto's direction. His brows were narrowed, his gaze never leaving that little outcrop which grew greener and greater with every yard they gained towards its shores. They had planned to draw up close enough to weigh their anchor without becoming beached. Of course, they would have to run her aground eventually if they were to make repairs, but until they knew what lay ahead, it would be useful to have their ship waiting at a safe distance.

Only it was then that they hit a nasty surprise. The ship jolted suddenly beneath their feet and an almighty ' _crunch!'_ sounded from somewhere far below. Just about every man's face paled visibly. In the dim light, none had realised that, just beneath the surface of the water, there lay an unexpected rise in the seabed - a wide, sandy ridge leading straight up to the land itself. A particularly tired, thin-looking man came to report the news to their Captain, but Ikuto barely moved. Amu had the impression that he was deep in thought, bracing himself for whatever might await them on those misty tides beyond. She stepped closer towards him and convinced herself that she felt him calm even though the rocky peaks stretched high above them; even though the hiss of the sea grew deafening and sinister in their ears; even though, as the crew stood along the bulwark and peered out at the murky land beyond, they suddenly felt as though they were not alone.

But, after a while, they saw nothing. The greenery moved with the wind. The foam rolled in with the tide. Somewhere in the background, a bird that they didn't recognise was cawing shrilly as if in protest of this abysmal weather, but nothing more was amiss. Eventually, Ikuto left Amu's sid and marched towards the gangplank. He inspected the waves beneath them. The water was deep enough, yet close enough to land that a man might swim if he had the strength, but, no matter how the crew might wade ashore, the Shining Black would still sit stranded some yards from the island itself.

Finally, he drew his spyglass from beneath his coat. "Ready the longboats." Ikuto said, not loudly, but his voice appeared to echo about the deck after such a long period of silence. "All of them. And pass out arms." And then quietly to himself; "Just in case…"

The crew obeyed swiftly, their ' _Yes, sir!'_ s breaking through the lull. Ikuto was still scrutinising the dark face of the isle from afar when Utau marched up to him, draping a miraculously dry musket over her shoulder and squinting through the mist.

"Anything ashore?"

For a moment Ikuto didn't answer. His attention was wholly on the land ahead of them, his brows knitted together in apparent concentration. Eventually he snapped his spyglass shut; "Trees, trees and more trees." He teased, chuckling lowly. "What? Didn't think this would be that easy, did you, little sister?"

Utau didn't seem amused. "It looks uninhabited. If Kazuomi were really here, I'd expect to see something of him. A ship. Campfire smoke… _Something_ , at least."

Ikuto proffered the spyglass to her. "No matter. We'll scour this island." He said firmly. "Have a lookout set up in the crow's nest. If he's here we'll find him."

By this time, the crew were lowering the last of their little vessels overboard. All eight longboats bobbed unsteadily on the water, the waves writhing and foaming beneath them as they crashed towards the shoreline. All prepared and armed to the teeth, the crew gathered beside the gangway and, whispering anxiously between themselves, began to descend down the side of the ship. Eight men there were to a single boat and fewer were to be left behind to keep the ship in-check. Amu was just edging towards the bulwark, subtly reaching for a sharpened cutlass when Ikuto stopped her in her tracks, his expression utterly forbidding. For a brief moment, Amu felt her blood burn - felt her very being practically _scream_ in indignation…

But just at the last moment - just as the last of her long-lasting patience was about to wither away - she stopped herself.

Ikuto's eyes were sunken, rimmed by grey as the clouds above. His cheeks were white; his shoulders just barely starting to sag at the prospect of some new and unnecessary fight at this of all moments. There was something about the draw of his breath; the crease of his brow; the dull blue of his eyes as they stood, eyes locked in conflict when Amu considered… Kazoumi was potentially within reach. And the shadow of his horror was creeping back upon their spirits and it was then that Amu realised.

Ikuto needed to do this. And, having lived in anticipation of this very day for longer than any of them combined, he needed to do this _his_ way.

And so, begrudgingly, Amu bit her tongue, looking up at his pale face with the most encouraging gaze she could muster.

"Go get 'em, ruffian."

Ikuto's response seemed caught between determination and relief. He slammed the hilt of his cutlass into his belt and, for the first time in days, Amu saw the flicker of something familiarly sly flash across his face. Ikuto brushed a flyaway curl from her cheeks.

"Take good care of the crew for me."

For fear that anything to come out of her mouth now would sound but wholly unconvincing, she simply nodded, but it was good enough for him. Reluctantly, unhappily, Amu stepped back.

Ikuto had not the time nor the desire to relish in this little victory. For the island was before him. And he was headed to shore.

~.~.~

The sound of the surf was almost deafening. The coast was grey and stony. In the air the taste of spray lay so tangible, so strong that the salt could have hung crystalline about the air, glittering and winking, suspended amidst the starry dew-drops of the rolling fog that had been swept asunder by the sea, and so, wet and chilly and straining against the oars, the first few pirates of Ikuto's company drew up at last along the beach. Yet for all the damp and all the cold and, above all, all the apprehension that lingered about their thoughts, there was underneath the most satisfying edge of relief as they abandoned their longboats and stepped ashore on this long-awaited isle and basked in the notion that, though a small step it might have been, it was still a step nonetheless on the road to redemption.

Throwing down his oars and splashing through the waves Ikuto took his first few steps onto the beach, ignoring the bitter kiss of cold as the water slopped over the top of his boots, and as the shadow of the island fell across their faces, he and the crew of the Shining Black found themselves utterly dwarfed by the size of it.

Nameless, faceless and seemingly unmarked on modern maps, this place had no name (or none that they could find, at least), being either unknown or otherwise unthought of by the sailors of Seiyo - acting as some simply unimportant little blot of inconvenience dotted about the sea, forming its own shoals and currents and coastal shelves that would have otherwise cut their trade journeys short had they been nonexistent, for most large ships that dared venture this far northeast were much too big to try and sail nearby. They'd found that out the hard way, for behind them the Shining Black still bobbed lazily out of reach, barred from further entry, her sails already weak from the storm and her the belly of her bow effectively wedged against that unexpected, near-invisible outcrop beneath the waves.

But it was still unbelievable that such a place could have gone apparently untouched - undiscovered even! - for so, so long. A magnificent mountain, shouldered by the beaten-down ruins of its former neighbours, rose towards the north, reaching high beneath the heavy clouds, just touching softly their sagging bellies as they flowed like rivers about its rounded peak. Weathered and wet and oddly slight, its sides were speckled with lush, dark greenery, stark and vibrant against the damp, dull grey of the rock and faded and mysterious in the fine drizzle it became the longer Ikuto stood to admire it. When at last his gaze drifted it was only because the roots of the mountain were obscured from view, buried beneath the forest, seemingly reaching deep and dark into an ancient and perilous place he could not reach. Before them now the very edge of this forest stood, dark and demanding, like an old and forgotten gateway into another world buried beneath the canopy. It sprawled out before them as a mess of shadow and soil, edged by shrubs that grew out of control and every now and then punctuated by a broken branch or two that jutted out at random, bearing their scars and stories in the wake of the hurricane that had so soon passed. Indeed the whole island seemed to be shivering in memory of the squall that had brought them here, moving and swaying like the leviathan come to life.

Utau trailed up beside him and thoroughly interrupted his reverie; "I spied some outcrops towards the east," she said. Ikuto got the definite impression that, if not for her outstanding sense of duty, they would have had a great job in restraining her from tearing off into the foliage and taking this entire island apart. Utau went on; "There may be cliffs, I can't be sure. Perhaps there's some vantage point from which to view the place."

"Set up an encampment there." he said. "And send some of your party to explore higher ground. Secure a vantage point as best you can and I'll have more men sent to you by sundown." Utau nodded. Soon Ikuto and the rest of his men were bidding their farewells to the small group set for the further shore, watching as their forms vanished like faint shadows swept from sight by the steady exhale of the still-quivering trees beside them. Ikuto regarded them with well-masked caution. At last, he unsheathed his cutlass from beneath his long, blue coat and gestured towards the rest of the beach.

"Scour the island."

And, as all eyes fell upon him, he felt an unfamiliar flourish of both excitement and dread - anticipation and exhilaration in equal measure - bloom as a newly-sprung bud inside his chest.

"If Kazuomi's here… We'll find him."

The ' _shing!'_ of drawn swords rippled like a wave across the beach, echoing off the mountain sides and shining as a light within the darkness and so one by one the pirates turned towards the trees and gazed about its tangled borders. Three men here; four men there; a whole handful digging through the brush and another out to sea, planning to circumnavigate this little hunk of rock in an over-crowded longboat they set to work. Ikuto's hope had been for a more methodological approach, but being here in the flesh in the shadow of the great, grey peak, the heated flame of his heart had no doubt gotten the better of him and he gave his men but two rules: to travel strictly in groups fully-armed and to keep their trail clear enough to be back on the beach by darkness, for when the heavy night fell they would lose all sense of heart - all sense of hope - in this unfamiliar place and would be entirely unable to retrace their steps back. In the shadows of the forest they would be vulnerable - open to whatever cunning tricks their former Captain might have laid waiting for them in the thick undergrowth (if he had left any at all).

Ikuto sent out his little bands of thieves and scoundrels into the line of the trees at regular intervals across the beach where he could, leading the majority of the pack behind him where they sloshed through the rising tide, keeping to the back of his heels like well-trained dogs, staying duly beside the hand of their master until he steered them off to side. By the time an hour had passed, Ikuto was sure that their progress was good and that his men would be carving efficient little trails through the thin, gnarled trunks, perhaps finding old remnants of voyages long passed along the way; was confident that Utau and her group would be making progress towards the cliffs and that by nightfall they would have a clearer picture of this funny little land; that their small gathering of keen sailors who had sought to scout along the coast would have found an inlet convenient for anchorage or, at the very least, some sort of route further out to sea whereby the Shining Black could venture tentatively closer towards the island and cut herself a fast passage through the maze of shoals beneath the sea.

Every now and then a chill gust of wind would cut along the beach, biting along the bridge of his nose, leeching the last of the warmth from his still-damp shirt. The sea fog hung heavy about the shore. It mingled with the mountain mists that rolled down through the jungle from the isle's interior until it seemed to Ikuto that he was walking along the last stretch of sand in the world - tip-toeing along a never-ending walk of refuge lost between two almighty, freezing frets flowing from the very fabric of the water's edge. The sky became indistinguishable from the stormy vapour. The sea was lost from sight until the only remnant of its very existence became the ever-constant roar of the surf as it thrashed upon the pebbles. Little droplets were gathering on the Captain's eyelashes, trailing down the tips of his hair; soaking his cuffs; always ' _tap-tap-tapping_ ' just behind his ear where the briny moisture dripped from his hat to the thick fold of his collar, rolling slowly down the curve of his shivering back.

But the tempest that had so brought them here was by now far from their minds. They were lost from the world - lost from time - and in this whiteout all soon grew distant. By the time the beach began to narrow and their path grew rife with obstacles - a fallen tree or two; uprooted rocks; tangled clumps of half-rotten fishing nets lost far out to sea - even the hissing and half-hushed whispers of the waves grew quiet upon their ears; the cacophony of seabirds died-

And then there was a ' _thunk!'_.

The world returned. Ikuto crouched down, his blade held tight at his side, and, his blood now cold, frowned down at his feet.

An oar lay abandoned in the middle of the beach. When the next whistling breeze came upon them, Ikuto saw it's partner laying a few yards ahead through the white of the fog. Washed up? Abandoned? Ikuto curiously took the wooden blade and ran his thumb along the grain, but it felt as sturdy as ever in contrast to the decrepit driftwood and decayed matter scattered all around them.

"Tha's the boys' longboat!" one of the men exclaimed. " _Ca'pn!_ Cap'n, sir! Tha's the boys' boat! There! O'erturned on the shore!"

Ikuto couldn't turn his head quick enough. By the time he reached the surf, his men had already half-dragged the sorry-looking thing halfway up the shore.

"Where's our lads?" someone asked aloud. "They on'y set to-sail this hour gone!"

"They wouldn't 'ave left her bobbin' without an anchor!"

"Sir! There's blood here on the stones!"

Someone unsheathed their sword, their face turned white with panic. "He's _here!"_ They cried. "That crooked old Cap'n! He's here - you mark my words!"

A ripple of fear washed about every man present before Ikuto could intervene, though he would die a dishonest man if he said he too didn't feel the pit of his stomach drop like a stone at that one remark. He grit his teeth and tried to hold himself together amidst these frightened men;

" _Quiet."_

There was no need. The men were already utterly stiff - rigid with apprehension. Even the surf had suspiciously died away. The fog closed in. The distant birds were even more distant than before…

And there was no doubt about it…

This place had become suddenly sinister.

Ikuto looked around. The trees were by now but a shadowy wall that stretched as far as the eye could see, which, Ikuto was uncomfortably aware, was not very far at all, but they were tall - so tall as to stretch so swiftly towards the sky that they suddenly felt very insignificantly small in the island's shadow. They were rustling in the breeze. They echoed and groaned and _rasped_ like ancient things long forgotten, rooted in place and a force of nature to be reckoned with. Every now and then something beneath the canopy would catch his eye - those great, leafy fronds would sway as though guided by the shadows within…

Ikuto crouched, his sight keenly fixed on the forest edge, like a predator poised ready to strike.

He froze.

Through the thinly-veiled mist, Ikuto thought he saw something shimmer.

"Someone's _here."_

Behind him, cutlasses were now all shining bright and brilliant even in the haze, every man armed to the teeth, their eyes a-blazing with a passion for vengeance renewed and as he rose to his full height Ikuto felt his blood pumping; his teeth baring; his very being come _alive_ in the adrenaline;

" _Show yourself!"_ his voice echoed endlessly against the thick boundary of the forest; between the trunks of the trees; against the ever-climbing sides of the mountain's edge as he brandished his fresh-sharpened sword. Beneath his shirt his heart thumped madly; " _Stand and deliver!"_

It was an expression Ikuto had never used in practice, but one that suitably made him feel as though, for once, he was perhaps big enough to fill these Captain's boots. But there was nothing. Behind him, Ikuto's men were brandishing their cutlasses, eyeing the gently swaying forest warily - as though expecting their former Captain to come crashing through it himself - but none of them faltered. Not at the sight of the smoke. Not at the sudden shriek of calling birds.

Not even as Ikuto held up his weapon and stepped gingerly towards the trees…

' _Snap!'_

The crunching of pebbles; the snap of twigs; the sudden ' _hiss!'_ and the almighty cry of one of his men as they crumpled face-first onto the ground, clawing at their neck, their eyes white and wide and bulging like a man caught in the midst of the Marshal's dance-

" _Cap'n!"_

Chaos erupted. As Ikuto's men leapt away from the fallen man a rush of wind fluttered almost unnoticeably beside his cheek and within seconds three more pirates joined their comrade, grey-faced and gasping for breath on the beach beside him, but there was no time to fall to their aid. There was a snap of wood and the heavy fall of footsteps and before Ikuto could even believe his eyes a thunderous ' _crack!'_ seemingly rent the trees in two! He cursed - raised his sword just in time. Ikuto bellowed with effort as his cutlass clashed as thunder against impenetrable steel - a great, curved blade of shining, midnight shadow; dark as a raven's beak; flecked with smatterings of silver as the sea; stretching ever upward towards the heavens until its keenest point disappeared utterly amidst the highest reaches of the clouds above. He grit his teeth;

" _Stand_ _down!"_

But his opponent was strong, clad in black, and through the fog Ikuto saw that beneath the many layers about his face there shone as embers the most fearsome, most forbidding eyes Ikuto had ever seen - so unforgiving, so full of fire and fury that all at once it seemed to him that his very soul; that his every thought and fancy had in that moment all been seen straight into, piercing as the gaze of only one other…

Flashes of ice-grey eyes reentered his mind. There was a shadow creeping across the floor; the sand and stone crackled and crunched as broken glass beneath his feet; the roar of the waves became utterly tyrannical, filled with rage, accompanied by the hissing of serpent's tongues as the surf broke upon the shore. His blood was cold; a brilliant, brutal blot of blackened blue blossoming upon his cheek-

It was almost too much. But Ikuto grit his teeth. His knuckles were white and trembling, but as the mist settled cold and wet about his cheeks he found his thoughts return to the present and he felt his strength renewed. By the time he'd managed to wrestle off his enemy, his palms were clammy with sweat, his ears echoing with the cries of his men who were all locked in helpless combat themselves. There were more figures - tall and lithe as the trees themselves - emerging all at once from the forest. Some carried great, long swords with crimson hilts; others unbelievable longbows thrice the height of any man amongst them and they were quick to work. Darts and near-damn metre-long arrows shining slick with mountain dew were flying through the fog. The pirates were scattered - some diving unceremoniously out of reach of the twirling projectiles and landing face-first onto the stones; others trying in vain to block the offending shots with what little courage and cutlasses they had left. Two fell to their knees, moaning, hot, dark blood quickly staining their ragged shirts. One man with a pistol was fumbling uselessly to fill up with powder, but the rest of his stash was sodden and sticky and he was caught unawares by no less than _three_ opponents who caught onto his limbs and fought to keep him incapacitated on the floor.

The Shining Black's men were falling - unconscious or otherwise wounded - like flies at the first chill of winter under the merciless hands of these shadowed warriors. Natives? Pirates? Companions of their former Captain? Ikuto did not know. But he had not the time to think much more on it. His lungs burning, he turned again on his own opponent, but found himself once more locked steel-to-steel, contesting in a battle of strength. His enemy uttered forth an almighty, guttural cry of strength and Ikuto found himself released. He parried - whirled just in time! - his wrist bones rattling with the force of the blow that had sought to rent him from above, for the figure was fast - retracting his strikes as quickly as he made them, ever-constantly retreating and leaping and striking Ikuto's blade again and again until it was all he could do to defend himself, never mind even contemplate making another pass of his own. Rocks were flying beneath the masked man's feet. Arrows were dodged. One of the unfamiliar men was tossed unceremoniously towards the surf, their ears ringing, blood splattering across the sea-smoothed stones as at long last one of Ikuto's crew unleashed their last - and only - precious reserve of dry powder. The shot echoed across the beach. For a brief moment, Ikuto allowed himself a small moment of victory. At long last, he managed to lunge headfirst towards his enemy.

"Stand _down-"_ he hissed. Their blades were locked, their gazes burning in equal measure, for the rebound of that single shot was still echoing off the mountains. Ikuto has no doubt that the rest of men had heard it.; "Before the rest of cavalry arrive!"

But the stranger seemed only fiercer upon these words. There was a hiss beneath the layers of black adornment. A muttered curse in some forgotten tongue. The warrior retreated only to charge headfirst towards him, his war-cry ringing through the mist-

' _WHAP!'_ \- an arrow flew past Ikuto's head. He'd missed it just in time, but the shadows were darkening along the trees.

' _WHAP! WHAP!'_

The air whistled with the ring of whipped bowstrings. Ikuto cursed; shoved the last of his conscious men out of its path; dove to the ground himself-

' _Ka-CHANG!'_

His opponent moved like the wind itself. That blackened blade reverberated sickeningly against the stones beside him. Before he could speak, the warrior's foot was on his chest, his eyes glinting icily beneath his good, the hilt of his sword raised, a wooden club in his hand…

And then, at last, all turned black.

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : If this was 2014 I'd make a 'fifteen minutes late with a Starbucks' joke.

I'm back for another chapter! I can't believe I last updated in November - it feels like two weeks ago? This refused to come together, but at last I've finished it. I'm a little embarrassed that it seems like the struggle seems to come across in my writing, but idk, I can always edit at some other point. It just feels like I'm antsy to get to the other island arcs I've got planned that I'm more excited about.

No, but really, if anyone's still here then you have _all_ of my love and thanks. I look forward to keep on writing for you very, very soon 3


	12. Chapter Twelve

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

It was almost like déjà-vu. The Princess could not count how many nights since the beginning of her unbelievable journey she had spent tearing back the sheets in a panic; wiping back the cold sweat from her forehead; pressing her ears and shaking her head if only to drown out what could only be described as the most jarring, most unwelcome memory that she held to date.

It was like a phantom. It haunted her. Followed her around like nothing else had, for it had been that single shot that night beside her destined shores that had single-handedly sent her off on this wild, riotous quest - that had led her to this life of pursuit at sea.

It was almost embarrassing - almost shameful for her to admit that she - no less than a fully-fledged pirate at this point in her life - sometimes still feared the call of gunfire and certainly she had not mentioned it. Not to anyone. But there was some small part of her that thought her fears appropriate. The panic never lasted long, after all, and, really, it was only what might come of such a shot she truly feared, not the act of firing in itself…

And it was times like this that Amu definitely thought her anxieties were warranted, for now she stood, staring out from the bow of the Shining Black, and felt her blood run cold at the thought of whatever might have befallen those she cared about the most.

Amu grasped at the folds of her skirts so as to hide the telltale trembling in her hands, though it did no good. Her skin was prickling with sweat; she was short of breath; beneath those many layers of silk and sheet and useless petticoats she felt her knees go weak as the sea-fog thickened, washed ashore by the last of the hurricane's breeze, and all about them the chill crept in as the icy touch of dread clenched round her heart. She squinted through the white-out, but, though they saw - and heard - no more, the echo of gunfire was still ringing loud and clear in every man's ears.

Behind her, Amu heard someone whisper;

" _Ichinomiya?"_

The assumption was clear. And Amu felt something snap inside her chest.

"It came from the west." She said at last, though how she found enough breath for it was beyond her.

There was a pause - a shell-shocked silence as every man on-deck exchanged wary looks and shivered in the onslaught of the gathering mist, wafted in across the sea. But the rush of fear was faster. As the seabirds resumed their distant chorus, having regathered about the mountainside, the last of the shots disappeared wholly into the wind and Amu tore herself from the gunwale. Her pounding of her pulse reached a dizzying crescendo in her ears. She bolted and made for the hatchway.

It wasn't until she was completely submerged in the gloom of the hold that she heard footsteps coming for her.

"Ya Maj'sty!" Yaya's shrill voice was joined by the sound of scurrying as she scrambled down the companionway, tripping over her own two feet in the dark. "Ya Maj'sty! Yaya can't keep up!"

About halfway across the topmost gun deck Amu saw the unmistakable gleam of brass and the dull glow of iron beneath the light of the hatch. In a great, lead-bolted compartment lay their Shining Black's most spacious magazine - full of arms and caskets of powder and shot. But Kazuomi had taken with him the key and never returned to secure his stock after his most cowardly escape and so now, in his absence, the door was forever left open and inside Amu had her pick of whatever blades her crew had left behind. Reaching into the darkness blindly, for their lanterns had been long extinguished and snuffed out like little candles by the spray of the storm as it leached through the gunports, Amu's fingertips met the cold kiss of metal and, as Yaya crossed over the threshold, she was left wordless at the sight of Her Highness brandishing a mighty, new-sharpened cutlass, her eyes aglow even though the gloom with a fiery resolve.

Amu felt her courage burst forth anew. "Ready the men." She commanded. "There's an old gig of some kind left between the gangways. Maybe two. Ready the crew and send them to arms."

By this time the former Princess was thoroughly distracted, darting about the dim cabin and inspecting the sureness of her blade. Yaya was left in the dust, open-mouthed and babbling;

"B-But Ya Maj'sty… Are you _sure?"_

Amu's glare was enough to rent the poor girl through. She stopped in her squawking and fell back into the shadow, watching with her mouth agape as she for the first time experienced the true nature of a former royal at work. She watched, speechless, as Amu tried to throw on a sword belt and scabbard. She was huffed at the enormity of it and settled for securing it over her shoulder.

"I can't just _sit_ here," she muttered, almost to herself.

"There's danger on this isle. If Ichinomiya's here-" Deep down in the pit of her chest, something akin to anger was beginning to boil away, for the very notion that she would be content to just _sit_ there and wait for Ikuto and the rest of their crew was no less appalling now than it had been when they'd left. It was almost a relief that she'd been given a reason to go after them.

"But, ma'am, you promised the Cap'n!"

At this Amu just laughed. "I promised I'd take care of the crew for him." She said bluntly. "And it sounds to me like they could use a hand."

And, determined, Amu left Yaya behind in the dark of the hold. By the time she was back in the open air the men seemed frantic. Clearly she had no reason to worry over their sense of loyalty, for they were already hauling up the remaining rowboats and lowering them into the sea. Amu watched as they produced a couple of splintery, dilapidated jolly-boats that had seen far better days and some sort of coracle made from the ruins of an old launch. It was a poor choice. A _depressing_ choice for a former ship-of-line. Any naval craft this size nowadays would have been inundated with vessels to choose from. Fully-rigged cutters and pinnacles and plenty of longboats to spare…

But they had no such choice. As their petty crafts bobbed about on unsteady waters, Yaya had set herself to work handing out cutlasses with a couple of men who were set to stay aboard the ship.

"Yaya ain't never seen a monarch at war before!" the young girl whispered, her voice full of wonder when Amu came near. "Yaya heard that back in his day, His Maj'sty stormed a fleet o' Seiyo pirates an'-"

"And utterly crippled them? Sure. My father told me that story at bedtime. What he didn't tell me was that it wasn't true." Amu scoffed. "For the record, Admiral Yui Hotori cut down those men whilst my father sat on his ship and sipped at his tea."

Yaya's looked aghast, but Amu just breezed on.

"Stay here. Keep a weather eye out on that island. If there are any troubles I'll send someone back to the ship."

Yaya nodded dutifully.

"Cast out!"

The journey was crowded and rough on choppy waves, but perhaps eighteen men managed to stuff themselves into those unworthy crafts, paddling with bits of broken plank they'd found deep down in the hold, for anything suitable for the job had already been claimed by the first lot of crew who'd gone before them. Amu was but a touch surprised that they didn't fall straight through the hull, but it was no matter. Their damaged little boats did the job and by the time that the old jolly-boat ran aground, Amu had already leapt from the paddles, wading out into the sea and splashing through the white-tipped waves towards the beach. She cast a fleeting glance back over her shoulder towards the Shining Black, but could barely see it; could barely descry even the highest mast nor the whitest diamond through the mist. Along the beach there lay a line of longboats, abandoned, almost ghostly on the grey stones.

But it was here that Amu entered into a dilemma. In the absence of sand, she could not track which way the crew had gone along the beach. They could have gone anywhere. The Princess made eye contact with one of her men, but, startlingly, the entire party were looking to her, waiting patiently for her direction. Amu decided that she'd find time to feel flattered later. Once they were all back and thoroughly through with this place, hopefully with their former Captain in their grasp…

There was no time to lose. But then, just a few yards to her right, Amu saw a wide break in the treeline. The foliage was trampled, grass and shrub and fallen leaves squashed flat by many boots. Pale, white branches broken clean from the trunk and glistening with sap leapt out against the thick greenery, hacked clean by countless blades, marking the path their fellows had taken. Amu might have been frustrated with them, for their tracks were so glaring obvious that anyone might have followed them with ease.

But the forest was dense. And their handiwork would take her right to them.

"Swords out, boys." Amu whispered. "We'll have 'em in no time."

~.~.~

There was little of note in this forest. So little, in fact, that Amu was beginning to wonder what reason Kazuomi would've had in coming here in the first place, for, though they trekked perhaps five miles in the space of their first hour, there was really nothing of worth to be seen.

Maybe one day, when the fog retreated and the grey skies cleared, they'd find something notable amidst all the plant life. Perhaps there were interesting new creatures lurking in the soggy undergrowth; perhaps there were ruins somewhere beneath the overgrown, chaotic mess that was the brush and towers of mosses that crept from tree to tree; or maybe the view from the mountainside was breathtaking on bluer days, but, sadly, here creeping through the dim light Amu saw none of those things. There were ferns here and there that she didn't recognise and sometimes they came across a flower or two that looked like they might have been pretty fascinating in colour had they not currently been closed up tight in the cold, but, other than that..? Well, it wasn't really the sort of place a person thought of when they envisioned the stereotypical island retreat a pirate might enjoy.

Amu had heard through various writings of forests like this that seemed to soar amongst the very clouds themselves. 'Cloud forests' one dignitary had called them on a stately visit long ago and, at the time, five-year-old Amu had been absolutely enamoured, filled with a childish interest that had sparked a once pure and precious imagination. She'd dreamed of lofty stone pillars topped with mossy heads and green-leafed peaks, punctuated by waterfalls and big, billowing flowers with eyes as bright as the sun itself. She'd seen herself, with her puffy cheeks and toothy grin, flying on the backs of giant birds and floating amidst a sea of clean, white foam - not an ocean, you understand, but a sea of soft, sublime cloud. It had been her kingdom atop the world for many moons (Amu wasn't quite sure what had come after it… Some other make believe world influenced by her mother's tales, no doubt), but here, faced with what might have actually been the reality that pompous dignitary had beamed about, Amu could say with clarity that this was the most miserable place she'd been forced to explore.

Beneath the trees the air was colder. The earth was saturated and worn by previous feet so that certain paths were near impassable and a man not much heavier than her would start to sink into a muddy deluge if he stood still for too long. Above their heads, they were attacked and pestered by relentless, icy drips falling from the treetops with every passing second.

In fact, Amu was so cold and her crew's morale so low, that she was just about to order them to stop and pause for a moment to rest when the air was rent anew by a distant crack of fire.

Amu inhaled audibly, but her voice was drowned out by the cries of many seabirds billowing into the air. They passed overhead not five seconds later and their shadow cast a dreadful chill amongst the crew.

She turned to them with urgency, her breath but a hiss; " _How many shots?"_

There were many whispers, but no definitive answer.

" _Three_ at least!" one man whispered back. He reached for his blade and gestured off towards the path they'd been following. "Westwards! A mile at most!"

"They're close by…"

Amu's heart thudded so dreadfully that she could feel it in her throat. She swallowed forcefully, her cutlass at the ready. " _At the ready, boys."_

And suddenly all displeasure for this place was shoved aside, replaced by the heat of her own heart. Amu was the fastest and most able to slip through the rough-hewn path with care, but she cared not for slowly tip-toeing through the forest path. Mud splashed up along her skirts; leaves thwacked and slapped at her cheeks; tangled knots and barbs of bramble-like vines assaulted every inch of her skin, but she didn't care for them, didn't even _blink_ as she led her men at a sprint into the gloom. They were slipping up a sliding slope; now hauling themselves headfirst over fallen longs; now hopping breathlessly over the roaring voice of a mud-ridden river when they reached a shadowed clearing.

No sign of their men. Nor of any enemies. But what they did find, as clear as day, was the sign of their struggle sunken deep into the mud. Even in the damp, the unmistakable tang of powder was in the air and, most alarmingly, one of the crew was examining what looked disturbingly like a splash of blood smattered across an upturned root in the earth.

"Which way did they go?" Amu turned uselessly on the spot, disheartened. Whatever trail they'd been following… It had _vanished_. "Impossible!" She shook her head. "Where've they gone?"

But, apparently, her company were just as stumped. Amu paced the clearing, flabbergasted.

" _Eighty_ men don't just… Just _disappear!"_

"Aye, ma'am," the nearest pirate knelt down next to an impression in the mud, as if trying to convince himself that the longer the looked the quicker a solution would appear. "But there's powder in the air alright…"

This was not a welcome reminder. "Find them." Amu said. "Search this place. Search in the bush. Dig through the mud. They were _here_."

There was a chorus of ' _aye, ma'am'_ s and Amu watched, at a loss and uncomfortably restless, as the pirates scattered, on the lookout for any more tracks left abandoned in the flora. She looked back down the well-beaten path, wiping the tickling dribbles of blood from her cheeks, barely caring for the damage the greenery had dealt upon her fair complexion-

And that was when they heard it.

Amu near leapt to her feet.

But only a few feet away, the foliage was rustling.

Yet the wind was still. The birds silent. The entire company stopped dead in their tracks as they heard it up ahead. There were branches snapping; mud was squelching; the leaves where _whispering_ and with an impending sense of dread, every man reached for their blade.

Cutlass in hand, Amu braced herself.

It was getting closer - _nearer -_ with a heart-stopping cry a roosting seabird mere inches away was disturbed from its nest and leapt to the sky; the branches burst forth-

" _Amu?"_

Her heart nearly faltered. " _Utau?"_

There was an audible round of relieved breaths as their quartermaster hacked mercilessly through the trees and emerged, blades drawn and all, into the clearing. The tension was broken. Blinking and drenched in sweat, Utau's bright hair and violet eyes were like beacons against the dark wall of the brush. Behind her, a mix of several similarly bemused and thankful faces were slithering out from the trees. Red-faced and puffy-cheeked, by the looks of it they'd been running over the rough forest terrain for God knew how long before they'd stumbled upon their meagre party.

Utau cursed, trying in vain to catch her breath;

"What are you _thinking?_ " Her words were brusque, but lacked much of their usual bite. "I could have shot you!"

Amu could have laughed aloud out of sheer relief to see such a familiar face. "Oh?" She slid her blade back into the makeshift baldric over her shoulder. "Where did _you_ get your hands on dry powder? Lend us some, will you?"

This vain attempt to lighten the tense mood was quite obviously unappreciated. Her pistol in one hand and a tarnished powder flask in the other, Utau let out a breathless sort of sneer - a twitch of laughter devoid of all mirth. "Unfortunately for you, we're fresh out." She tossed the flask unceremoniously in Amu's direction, who caught it in one fell swoop of the hand. "What are you up to? My brother asked you to remain on the ship."

Amu ignored this. "Where are the others?" She regarded Utau's small group with concern. "Which way did they go?"

Utau frowned. "How should _I_ know?" Utau snapped irritably. "Ikuto sent us off to scout along the cliffs! The rest he took with him. They should be miles into the interior of this place by now!"

"But did you pass them?"

"I could ask you the same question. I don't know where they are, but…" Their quartermaster hesitated. Utau lowered her voice until it was little more than a whisper. "But there's someone else here." She said urgently. "We caught sight of something along the treeline on our way to the cliffside. It disappeared. We tried to follow it down here, but, well… Here _you_ are."

"We're not alone." Amu agreed. "We heard shots from the ship. They were _here_ , but now I don't know-"

"We have to regroup." Utau cast a dirty look about the clearing, her eyes settling on the many scuffs and steps in the dirt. "If Kazuomi's really here he could pick us off in these trees. He'll have us running about like rats."

The insinuation was uncomfortably familiar. The Princess thought back only briefly to that night they'd spent stumbling in the labyrinth back ashore in pursuit of him, but shook the memory away just as quickly. It was time to focus.

"Go back up to the cliffs." She said. "Take some of us with you. I'll have to try and find Ikuto if we're going to hunt the dog down properly."

It was a tactic that, in her mind, seemed most straightforward, but, perhaps predictably, Utau just looked offended.

"What? So you can get yourself shot? I don't think so! If anything happens to _you-_ "

Utau stopped herself just in time, but it was too late.

" _What?"_

There was a pause. In the background, the pirates looked on, wordless. Utau folded her arms stubbornly across her chest, her face turning crimson. Truly it must have been quite the effort to keep her flaming personality to herself, but Amu didn't care.

"Go _on."_ Amu bristled. And, just for good measure, she lay her hand on the hilt of her cutlass even though, at nearly a head shorter and weighted to the ground under a multitude of sodden petticoats, she felt dwarfed in the older woman's shadow. " _Say_ it. So what if anything happens to me?"

"There's a _reason_ my brother wanted you to stay on the ship."

"It's funny," Amu spat. "You'd think by now he'd have known me better."

Utau scoffed.

"You know," the heiress went on, slow and steady, her fury blossoming pink beneath the soft skin of her cheeks; "I am not as _useless_ as you and your brother take me to be." There was a pause. A sharp hiss of breath. Amu's knuckles were as white as snow as she seethed; "I am just as much of a victim of this as you are. I am the rightful owner of half of the fortune he is chasing. I am the _reason_ your stepfather finally set you and your brother free in the middle of the night with _my_ Lock in his hand…"

Ire smouldering, Amu stood flush against her rival.

"And I am going to kill him."

Utau blinked down in obstinate silence.

"Do you understand me?"

There was a pause. A breath of air. Amu slowly shifted her sword so that it's scabbard clicked open in a deathly warning that echoed deafeningly across the empty space of the clearing…

But Utau wasn't looking at her anymore.

For a brief second, Amu felt only anger - outraged at such a display of disrespect. Until she heard it.

' _Snap!'_

Something was beneath the trees.

" _Take cover!"_

They'd been ambushed. Utau dragged her out of the line of fire just in time and the two of them shielded their heads as the ' _whoosh!'_ swept through the clearing. There was the splintering of wood and a smattering of sawdust and when Amu opened her eyes she came face-to-face with the still-shaking fletchings of an arrow unlike any make she'd ever seen. It shaft was glistening as the forest's lifeblood leaked slowly and stickily down its spine. Arrows were stuck deep in the surrounding greenery, but her men were unhit. They were scattering, ducking and diving behind thick trees and fallen trunks, shielding themselves behind weaves of moss and vine and reaching for their weapons.

The first the pirates saw was the shifting of the shadows as the forest around them seemingly came to life. She heard whisperings. Mutterings and commandments and the odd demand in a tongue she couldn't understand. Amu did not know how many there were - only that they were surrounded.

Utau crept noiselessly to shield herself behind a rotten-looking tree trunk. She hissed;

"Hold your ground!"

But it soon became apparent that their ground was not going to be enough. The ' _twang!'_ and ' _whoosh!'_ of arrows as they buried themselves into the trees was deafening. Amu narrowly avoided another oncoming shot, and in good time too. She cursed, desperately wondering why her own crew was so devoid of archers as she crouched behind a thick veil of mossy growth, sinking to her knees into the mud. Utau's powder flask was still in her hand, but there was enough moisture dripping from it's rusted surface that Amu knew whatever was still inside would be too sodden to put to use. She threw it to the ground in frustration. The clouds were rolling in, choking them with thick, wet air, shielding their vision as they squinted to catch sight of their ambushers crouching in the forest. Guns were useless; firepower was futile; and all she or any of her pirates had for defence was the cover of the forest and the quickness of their courage. As the volley of arrows rushed through the leaves, there was little hope even that they'd be able to creep close enough to their opponents for a proper fight. Not _yet_ at least…

Something silvery flashed in her peripheral then. A young pirate was coming to take cover beside her, armed to the teeth with more knives and daggers than she'd ever thought possible. And, with that, an idea flourished in Amu's mind.

When the next round of arrowheads speared through the air, Amu lunged for the pirate's dagger.

Before she could even register what she was doing in her own thought, Amu had leapt to her feet. She had the dagger in one hand, her cutlass in the other; she was almost full in the clearing; somewhere in the background, Utau was shouting for her-

Straight ahead, a figure robed in black stepped into the path. He raised his bow, but Amu was fast - fuelled and pumped into life by adrenaline - and before he'd so much as reached for his quiver her dagger was flying through the air, clipping the leaf and vine.

Amu had already run for cover by the time it landed, but she heard the blade reverberate off the man's helmet. Unconscious or dead (she didn't know), he dropped to his knees and slumped back into the moss. The figure's companions cried in outrage and another assault was launched on the crew, but their return was more deadly than before. They truly were surrounded. Arrows were flying in all directions. Behind her, men who had been apparently safe found themselves launched upon by unknown hands and dragged kicking and shouting off into the darkness. As Amu fought to pursue one such pirate, Utau was dragged bodily into the open peril of the clearing by her pigtails and thrown roughly to the ground.

Though the man clearly didn't know who he was dealing with. For all his plated armour and swift, silent skills, he was quite obviously (and laughably) unprepared for her retaliation. Utau's cutlass shone keen and true - a mere flurry of light even here beneath the trees - and the man was soon sprawled out on the ground, blood spurting profusely from his side. Their quartermaster leapt to her feet, her boot digging into his chest and her blades dripping. She turned to the path from whence her foe had come. Whoever he was, his comrades had been provoked.

" _Come on."_

Swords drawn, warcries bellowing, the shadowed figures were either out of arrows or too frustrated to use them. Whichever it was, Amu thought that Utau was just too bad (or good, depending whose side you were on) an influence when it came to a fight. The blonde was soon at the centre of an almighty clash of steel and the pirates had become brave enough to emerge from their hiding places, encouraged as the arrowheads became few and far between. Amu hoped to high heaven that her fire wouldn't falter as she uneasily brandished the sword in her hand. Rapiers were one thing, but she had never used anything much heavier in the few, minor battles she'd been a part of.

Amu had no time to think of it, for her first opponent had found her.

A metallic figure burst in an almighty clamour from the thick of the trees, his sword glittering above his head, then shuddering with a bone-shaking force as he swung it to the ground. Amu just barely dodged him. There was an awful jolt in her stomach as she watched him tug his longsword from that gigantic dent in the ground, but there was no time to give in to fear. His voice was muffled beneath his mask - his face covered by a glittering, obsidian cloth - but Amu heard him yell with effort. He swung, her skirts fluttering as she swooped and swerved from his path. At last he served, but through some sheer miracle Amu parried and, though the exertion damn-near finished her, fought him off. Meanwhile, nearly every one of her men remained locked in combat, their curses and jibes and cries of determination creating an almighty crescendo for all to hear. To her left, Amu was faintly aware of the ' _whoosh'_ ing of arrows again, though there was perhaps one bowman left, for she was certain she'd caught sight of one or two buccans wrestling a pair of archers to the ground. To her right, she heard someone screaming-

" _Amu!"_

Again;

" _Amu!"_

It was Utau. It was Utau calling her name.

As the figure's steel scraped against the blade of her cutlass, Amu felt the indignation boil away in her chest.

' _I'll handle this myself!'_

Unbidden a mighty cry burst from her lips and a newfound boldness fuelled her to the fight. She shrugged off his sword, then swung again - again and again until the world fell away and the clash of metal and the heat of the moment drowned out all else. Sweat was dripping from her brow. Her arms were aching. But Amu's fury was fierce. She lunged, going for a jab to the stomach, but he caught her blade and turned her wrist so that she fell flat on her side. He would have rent her clean in two then, but the Princess rolled just in time, leaping to her feet, circling her opponent like a lioness stalking its prey.

For the first time, the figure spoke;

" _Sit down, little one,"_ said a muffled, yet oddly playful voice; " _I think you've had enough."_

Amu bristled, but bit her lip. Instead of answering back, she swung at the bastard. Her moves were off-balance and she nearly fell back on her ankle, but the warrior was caught off-guard. The blade bounced off his shoulder plate, narrowly missing the bundle of cloth at his neck. By the way he stilled, she knew he was shocked. She took her chance. As he stepped forth to apprehend her, she circled once more and slashed as the back of his helmet where the green, ornate-looking fabric beneath stood out like the light of day. Again and again she proved her worth - light on her feet, quick to dodge, trying in desperation to avoid the blades and projectiles flying all around them. In the confusion, an arrow just caught the side of his helmet, ricocheting off into the trees where it barely drew blood, but it was enough that the warrior was thrown off his feet. Amu saw her chance. With a quick flourish she kicked his ankles from beneath him and struck him on the back of the head - hard and true with the hilt of her blade, the force rattling her wrist bones. He slumped to the ground, his sword clattering away and slumping into the mud, and, as he fell, the figure was unmasked.

There was little for Amu to say about that moment, for she was light-headed and breathless, spots starting to appear in many colours in her vision… But she remembered his face well enough. Indigo irises shone clear through the fog - as entities of their own, as the blue-lit wisps her mother warned her lured travellers from the road, reflected and illuminated in their brilliance by the gleam of her blade.

Overwhelmed by adrenaline, Amu drew her cutlass beneath his neck.

But the warrior just shook his head.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

His gaze darted behind her for but a split second. Foolishly, Amu followed.

In the midst of the forest, the fight had stopped. Utau's cutlass had been knocked from her grasp and lay half-stuck in a dip of mud as she struggled, digging her boots into the dirt, her screams muffled by the hands of her captors. Their pirates were spent - either held at point of bow or spear or otherwise face-down in the dirt, held fast and gagged by the shadows of the forest.

And no less than three of them were at her back, their arrows drawn taught. She could hear the bowstrings creak; could feel the hiss of their breath on the back of her neck…

Reluctantly, Amu lowered her sword.

"Not bad," said the blue-eyed warrior. "For a woman."

Amu's knuckles whitened around the hilt of her blade. "I'll have your _tongue_ for that-"

The creaking of bows set her back into silence. There was naught she could do but watch, seething, as the unmasked man rose from the ground, an air of of triumph radiating from his being, a smirk spreading across his smug little face.

"These ones put up a _fight!_ Lay down your arms, _pirates_." He said. "You've been bested."

~.~.~

Fire… That was the first thing he was aware of.

Firelight? Torches..?

He'd only known this once before… That flicker of flame. That smell of smoke and the echoing of his own two feet as he stumbled helpless from the light of its source. For a moment - for one fleeting, _frightening_ moment - the Captain of the Shining Black thought he'd gone back. Back into the heat of the fire. Back to the docks. It was all so vivid in his head - so ever-present in his nightmares…

But no… This was no cell, nor was this any market in any corner of Seiyo. Slowly, Ikuto opened his eyes. His head was pounding in protest. In fact, just about every inch of his body appeared to join in. There was a burning about his wrists; a dull ache in his back; his chest felt heavy and tight as he wheezed in the quiet darkness. Confused and dizzy, Ikuto squinted and tried to turn to catch a glimpse of the place only to end up sprawled on his back and it was only then that he discovered that he was lying on a hard, cold floor made of reeds and odd, woven mats bathed soft, orange glow.

And there, stood resolute in the corner of the room, Ikuto caught the glitter of the firelight dancing in the eyes of his captor.

He was like a spectre. A shadow. A suit of medieval metal; draped in oriental robes; as sentinel as a warden in plated mail - a gleaming, still-smoking spirit having stepped just out of the forge, for the shine and flicker of flame rebounded like living, breathing embers amidst the cold, ashen-obsidian of his armour.

But he said nothing. _Did_ nothing. Just watched, observant and patient and silent as the grave as his charge came to at his feet.

Catching the distinct edge of the shadow's blade, glowing bright and brilliant as the setting sun at its side, Ikuto became quickly aware that the burning currently ravaging the skin of his wrists was the rubbing of rope and that he was tied and bound to the mercy of this wild island man, for a chain had been cuffed to his ankle and shackled to an iron bolt in the ground. Faintly, he was aware of the blood sticking to his hair. Awake and alert, another pang resounded in his head at the memory of his capture. A rumble of discontent left his throat, in time with the clank of his chains;

"Was that _really_ necessary?"

His voice sounded hoarse and strained with fatigue and so it was no wonder that the man in the corner ignored him - dismissed him as an idle threat. In frustration, Ikuto took a tug at the chains. At first he was hopeful that with enough struggling he might come free, for the entire reed carpet seemed to shake and shudder and _creak_ dangerously beneath him, but the bolt in the floor held firm and a searing pain shot up through his ankle at the force, shackling him back down to the ground. Ikuto snarled.

And then, at last, the shadow spoke;

"A fighter?" His voice - for, if there had been any doubt in the first place, he was definitely a man - was low and steady as a flowing torrent, thickly accented by an eastern tongue that Ikuto could not name; "About time. We have been awaiting you, Captain." They uttered brusquely, as monotone as Ikuto had ever heard. And, at the interruption of more metallic clattering; "Please, do not mind your bonds. I wish to speak with you. Alone."

Ikuto slowly rose from the ground, dragging himself up onto his knees and ignoring the familiarity of the entire situation as best he could because, if there was one thing he dreaded, it was to appear ignoble in the eyes of the formidable man before him.

"Couldn't you have asked a little more nicely?" He sneered tauntingly. "By all means, the privacy of my cabin would have been much more comfortable."

There was an unexpected flare of flame. A chord had been struck. The sword was drawn accompanied by a burst of anger; "I will not set foot on your ship!" The shadowed figure barked - spitting as though to rid his tongue of poison; "And I shall not stand for her to sail so close to this isle!"

' _Natives,'_ Ikuto thought to himself. He had encountered few in his time, for many ancient and far-flung tribes well known in their day had been all but eradicated under the spread of Seiyo's influence. The empire had consumed them - flushed them from their homes under fire of gunpowder and robbed them of their spiritual grounds nigh on two centuries ago - until now all that was to be heard of their existence lingered in fireside stories and age-old legends steeped in the illusion of colonial glory. Those that remained - that had evaded naval interest and lived in archipelagos not long since claimed for foreign lands - were almost as few and far between as legitimate pirate myths themselves. But, then again, though they persisted, Ikuto and his crew had never expected such an… _Advanced_ breed of indigenous men to spring upon them on their travels. The southward seas were riddled - positively awash with whispers and romantic rumours drifting across the waves of little peoples living like the true wild men of old in the undergrowth; hauling sticks in lieu of weapons; running foreign men down within an inch of their lives and flaying them still-alive on the shores. But these men… These men had iron and wooden huts. Their armour was inlaid with silver and precious compounds of many colours. They had bows - _fire-forged_ arrowheads and keenly-wrought swords as black as the endless wall of night. And Ikuto did not know in all honesty who they were or how they might escape with their skin in-tact (for he assumed that, however far from stereotypically barbarous they might have been, there were plenty of civilised men in the world alone who still had a taste for such ancient acts) because the malice and sheer organisation with which he and his men had been ambushed did not bode well for them. As it was, Ikuto could barely sneak away from the lordly warrior's piercing gaze; could barely shift from beneath the firelight and back into the shadows where he often felt he still belonged.

But, in the absence, of retreat or weapon (he thought for a moment about the blade sheathed on the inside of his boot, but there was no way he'd be able to reach it), Ikuto was forced to do what he (thanks to his dearest stepfather) did best: think fast; stay light on his feet; and try against all hope to save his sorry skin.

"We did not intend to encroach on your land," he began slowly, trying to breathe through burning ribs, ignoring the discomfort as his throat went deathly-dry under his captor's gaze; "we did not know men dwelt here-"

"Do not attempt to _deceive_ me!" the warrior burst out, hot and dangerous; "For you have already answered to the title of ' _Captain_ ' - you have already claimed ownership over that sordid craft!" And he took his charge by the scruff of his collar and hauled him up to his knees;

" _That Diamond has sailed our seas before!"_

And, all of a sudden, it clicked.

Ikuto caught a flash of something in the man's eye - a flash of fear he'd seen before. It was the same fear in every honest sailor's heart - the same fear that he'd beheld in every man and woman that night they'd chained him to the spot.

It was the same fear that followed Kazuomi wherever he went.

Ikuto's heart dropped like a weight. The shadow's grip on his collar was shaking - _trembling_ with uncontained rage. His head was starting to spin again and the sweat dripping from his brow was starting to wash blood into the corner of his eye. " _Untie_ me!" Ikuto burst, exasperated, his chest heaving; "I'll show you - we're not the crew you're thinking of-"

"Do not think you are in a position to make demands, _Captain!"_ The figure snarled. "You are on our soil now - _no_ other! You are fortunate - _oh_ , so fortunate, for that is what they call you, yes? That is what they call your breed? True ' _gentlemen of fortune_ '."

Ikuto frowned. He shook his head. "No… No, we are not that crew…"

Unexpectedly the warrior released his grip and Ikuto slumped back onto the reeds, his head light and his vision swirling. There was a scrape of metal and a flicker of firelight and, before he could even think there was a blade to his throat, icily cold and stinging even in the sweltering heat of the hut. There was a moment of uneasy silence. And then, calmer now;

"The Diamond sail… You have stained our shores before." The warrior said. "And I cannot allow such carnage once again."

Ikuto swallowed slowly and as the blade bobbed against his skin the glow of the firelight reflected menacingly in his eyes. Fighting the overwhelming sense of déjà-vu, he blinked up at his foe.

"You are under our observation now, Captain." The figure said. "And you shall _answer_ me…"

There was an uncomfortable pause. A lull. The figure drew himself up to truly fulfil his lordly stature, his grasp still keen on his blade;

"From whence have you come?" said the Lord with what sounded like a forced sort of patience. "And from whence did you hear of this blessed isle unless you truly are those whom you claim not to be?"

His tongue was stilted and archaic, steeped in a blunt, unfamiliar eastern lilt that swept like sand across the dunes. Ikuto drew for breath. The shimmer of spark upon metal was still dazzling his vision and a wave of uncomfortable sweat prickled hot at the base of his neck in anticipation. And now, remembering the nights on end spent within his cabin; overwhelmed as the phantom scent of dried and ink-blotted parchment filled his nose; seeing the swells and scribbles and all the intricacies of every inkblot swim before his eyes (for truly they'd invaded his head; they looked before his vision; they danced behind his eyelids when he slept), he answered;

"In the first," he said with caution, for there was no mistaking the dwindling patience left shaking in the warrior's grip; "I am truly _not_ that who you think I am. And by my life I am not aligned to him."

There was something much like a scoff beneath the layers of cloth, but Ikuto didn't comment.

"I should not place such a bet so lightly." They said. "For I am not a patient man."

"No," Ikuto replied and his voice was nearly but a breath with tension. Yet he was earnest. "No, I would not. And I would not play my own life without reason."

The warrior looked down upon him with a blank sort of expression that Ikuto could only put down to curiosity, but he said nothing. He took his chance - spurred on by the welcome silence - went on.

"For, you see, the man you are thinking of has wronged me too." He swallowed. "He is a scoundrel. A devil. A curse upon whom I and my crew have suffered dearly…"

"Your kind often are." The warrior said. Ikuto ignored him. His chest was heaving, his breath light, catching uncomfortably at the back of his throat;

"What if… What if I told you… That we come in search of him? That our mission - our reason for coming here - was to follow in his footsteps? What if I said that our purpose here was to find him and hunt him down? Because he has wronged us too…"

There was a pause then. Had he not been so preoccupied judging how close that sword was to his neck, Ikuto might have missed the slight shiver that swept down it's spine, for the figure faltered unmistakably then, but there was something else - a hestistance; some sort of trepidation…

Ikuto knew then that Kazuomi had wronged them almost just as deeply. He waited.

After an uneasy, drawn-out stretch of silence, the figure spoke.

"And," the Lord began; "This you can prove?"

Ikuto held his head aloft and, swallowing drily, met his captors' eye;

"By every bruise on my body." He said. "By every scar on every inch of my skin and every dark space in the souls of my men."

Naught but quiet followed this oath - solemn though it was. For a moment, Ikuto wasn't even sure his plea had worked.

And, finally, the warrior withdrew his blade.

"Then you would have our allegiance."

~.~.~

 _A/N_ :

I'm a fool. I almost published this fic without making Amu act like a badass. My girl deserves better than that. Didn't quite manage it this time, but Amu will be stepping up her game, I'll make sure of it.

This might be the quickest I've updated recently. I know, I'm as shocked as you are. I'd revise this chapter, but I'm exhausted. I've been having a sort of crisis lately. I thought I knew how this fic would end. But now I'm not so sure. Either way, this fic _should_ have about thirty chapters? Idk I have a lot of loose ends to tie up in this plotline.

Thoughts + favs appreciated!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

The more Ikuto saw of this isle, the more he came to realise that this whole place was a contradiction.

He couldn't quite figure it out, for truly they'd never thought to find such a civilisation here. Well, perhaps the term 'civilisation' might not have been appropriate and he used it in the very loosest of terms, but it made little difference because, no matter which way he looked at it, here on this seemingly desolate, deserted island, Ikuto could not deny that there was to be found an advanced, if small, society, tucked away from the eyes of the world and left to prosper in peace in a manner that defied all traditional expectations.

And it truly stumped him. It might have been easy at first to dismiss them as mere wild men. Isolated; outcast; alone in the woods and armed with spears, but no - the very notion just didn't quite _fit_. But they could not have been natives. They were not like those mysterious ancient tribes, tales of whom still were whispered softly over roaring campfires, that one might have expected to find in the isolated corners of the world - ruthless and feral, like the last lingering remnant of a world truly untamed. No… These men defied all expectations.

Because, even though their huts were crude and half-swallowed by the forest, these men were almost… _Refined_.

In fact, Ikuto found himself now reeling as he stood in what he could only describe as an imperial war room, outwardly disguised as but a meagre little hut, a jumble of driftwood planks topped by a flimsy thatched roof made of dried reed and palms.

Yes, this place was an entire contradiction - bare-boned right down to the loose-leaf roof and the reeded floors and the rough-hewn timbers that held this hut together, yet, like its inhabitants, there was to be found the most unexpected touch of luxury - the echoes of some lavish, long-lost culture, rich and vibrant - in the most untoward of places.

Tiered, bronze lanterns with filigree doors and pagoda-type tops hung from the rafters overhead. The walls were patchworked in fine, velveteen tapestries and silken ceremonial robes, shadowed by the unforgiving presence of ornamental suits of armour - empty, cold warriors of obsidian steel with gilded headdresses and painted, grimacing faces - stood as sentries in every corner, grim and menacing. Beneath their feet, the floor was carpeted in the most remarkable, most exquisite dyed rugs of deepest reds and boldest greens, so vast and extensive that Ikuto could barely have made out the scenery it was meant to depict unless he'd had a higher vantage point. He caught a corner of grey-blue clouds, their edges twisting like clawed, smoky tendrils about snow-capped mountaintops. There were red and white faces with horned skills and glaring yellow eyes. Beneath the feet of the low, wide desk where the Shadow stood he found the golden trimmings of pagoda rooftops, enshrined by branches of what looked like white orange blossom… The list went on.

And, silhouetted in the light of the hanging lanterns, his captor - (Saviour?) - stood before him. His helmet sat empty on the low, wooden table - oddly soulless, yet utterly menacing. Unmasked, yet no less unguarded. His hair was of deep, sea green; his fance unusually fair. His eyes were of dark teal and lush myrtle, but no less unforgiving as he looked calculatingly up at the Captain.

Between the two of them lay abandoned an ink-brushed outline of the island itself, taken down from its hanging place between what looked to be two ceremonial robes, spread-eagle and stretched across the wall behind the armoured guardians, their hemmed sleeved brushed with black at the occasional misfortune of one of the open lamps. But the warrior was not interested in them. Nor this map.

Beneath his fingertips, Ikuto's map - _Kazuomi's_ map - fluttered and fettered lightly as he reached down to observe it and, as the lanterns brought all its secrets to light, the accursed thing sat tauntingly between them. A chill ran down the Captain's spine. The rasping of dried parchment fell like sinister whispers upon his ears. The warrior's touch lingered, his fingertips brushing tentatively against the scribble of ink that marked his own domain.

"Yes…" He said at last. "You are in the right place."

Ikuto said nothing. He was too busy trying to shake the unbearable feeling that he was being watched; trying to ignore the invisible gaze of who knew what even though he had already ascertained that he and the shadow were truly alone in the room - that the suits of armour were in fact empty and the rustling of forest leaves outside was simply the wind as the last of the gale died down to the breeze. Outside the hut, Ikuto heard the distant rumble of the tide returning to shore beneath the ' _pitter-patter_ '-ing of the wet, leafy fronds. The seaward storm was over. The squall had died and now left naught but the drizzle to contend with.

But now Ikuto was alone with a new foe, or so it seemed. Through the darkness this mountain man had brought him here. Blindfolded; bound; guided only by the sound of his captors' voice and the jarring reinforcement of something sharp at his back, though perhaps with less vehemence than there had been before, and so through shadow Ikuto found himself drawn into the waiting care of the warrior himself who had cast off his ties and from there on out had treated his charge with a cautious, but appreciated sort of respect.

Though it was hard to buy into such a façade, Ikuto found, when one had just come to in chains and been roused by knifepoint - not to mention that this entire place suggested something far more militant than he had ever thought these forest-dwelling people to be capable of. Ikuto had never been inside a war room of course, but it was the only comparison he could think of. Or, perhaps, that of a military man's study. He vaguely remembered capturing a glance of the Admiral Hotori's private library back in their seaside home - back when when the summers were golden and the skies clear and the most inconvenient occurence to befall his little life was to suffer through the day-long coach ride down to the coast for their frequent little visits. But the times had changed. There was far more now to be fearful of in this world than the anticipation of boredom on the winding road and, whilst Yui Hotori's study had been immense and lofty - all red-polished wood and stained-glass windows beneath stone-cut alcoves, glittering with a hundred hues of coloured light as the sunlight settled softly upon the bookshelves, tomes chained and stacked to the shelves in the medieval way - this place was anything but. It was dark and damp and, of the warrior himself… Well, there was something untoward about him. Like the unusual lull before the charge of the storm; the misguided sway of a ship becalmed; like the gentle, deceiving calm of the tide before the typhoon thrums its way towards the shore. In his eyes, Ikuto thought he saw a beast just barely tamed - a wild malice only just drawn back by the barest of chains and tethers. With every step and every breath, by every beat of his heart, the young Lord reaffirmed his stance as the very picture of decorum. Wild and tempestuous, yes… But restrained. Disciplined. A true warrior of the east and a formidable opponent both in war and wits.

The warrior spoke; "How came you by this?"

His eyes flashed jade in the dim light, his hand still placed protectively against the sacred scribble of his own domain, for this place, even Ikuto could now see, was a pure place. A cultured place. A refuge wiped from common knowledge, enshrouded gently by the wash of the surf and clouded skies…

There was something solemn now creeping into the Shadow's otherwise cool composure - something long pushed back and buried, brought at long last to light as the bright white of the Diamond Sail shone at last upon the shores once more. Whatever chaos his stepfather had brought here nigh on decades ago, he did not know… And perhaps it was a shame that he'd been to young to accompany the crew of the Shining Black to this very place nigh on decades ago, he thought. After all, if he was determined to ultimately deal out justice unto his former Captain, it seemed only right that he ensure the blaggard pay for each and every crime he had committed against these people - one by one.

"It was given to us." Ikuto responded. "By an old associate of our former Captain. I did not chart that map."

"No." The Shadow said. "I do not believe you did. The Diamond Sail last sailed these seas near an age ago. I may not follow the passage of time as do those in the wider world, but nevertheless you are far too young to have been at the end of a sword in those days." And he looked Ikuto up and down curiously. "In fact, some might argue that is still the case."

Ikuto fought back a most indignant scowl. He straightened, trying to ignore the nagging impression that his boots were growing too big and his jacket too loose for his liking. Luckily, his captor was not finished.

"A fine voyage you have set out for yourself, Captain." said the Shadow. And he held the map before his face, lifting it up as though the speckled firelight would shine upon whatever secrets his eyes could not discern and lay them bare for all to witness. Through the worn, thin parchment, Ikuto saw the glow fall as tainted starlight upon the little inked smudge that marked their current abode. "My people… We are on no map that I have seen. It was the way things were, you understand. None sought nor were given the bearings to this isle unless in great need… And undisturbed we have been ever since. Until, of course, the Diamond found our shores."

Ikuto felt a pang of remorse, though he was not sure why. Perhaps it was the unmistakable edge - as sharp and as bitter as the cold blade of a knife - in the formidable man's voice. Or, perhaps Ikuto thought now, it was the familiarity. It was in the memory of the firelight in the faces of frightened townspeople; in the glimmering of torches and the shine upon steel pitchforks gathered about a bustling town square…

Kazuomi seemed to spark fear wherever he went.

"Then," Ikuto said steadily; "you understand why we are seeking vengeance."

Ikuto continued;

"I may be a pirate, My Lord," Ikuto uttered; "We might sail the same black ship and fly the same black flag, but I am a man of my word." (At this, the Shadow's gaze turned upon him, but he said nothing.) "This map was drawn and charted by the man who visited your isle long ago and you know as well as I that he is a man of malice. He has enslaved us. _Wasted_ us. Abandoned us in naval waters and left us to die, but, above all our Captain stole something from us. Something dear - something _precious_ …"

The warrior's remained stoic. But Ikuto was unperturbed;

"Ten long years I spent in his service and I tell you the truth when I say I've the scars to prove it. This map is all we have left of him. It lists what are potentially his last remaining refuges in this world. And therefore for all his years of torment, we have taken his ship and one by one we will scour them in search of him, for we seek _revenge_."

The warrior's face was unreadable, his eyes burning steadily as the glow of the dimming lantern light. Ikuto almost wondered if his plea had fallen on deaf ears, but there was something shifting in the Shadow's countenance now.

"So, My Lord, understand me when I say that we did not sail to this isle to bring you harm. Our only ill will is reserved for the man who has wronged us both."

An age seemed to pass.

"You wish to end him?"

Ikuto nodded.

There was a pause. The warrior seemed to scrutinise him up and down - from the top of his sodden, blue head to the waterlogged soles of his old, scuffed boots.

Finally, at long last, the warrior's voice returned.

"My name is Musashi." He said. And he held out the map, now folded and tied with a new string of leather. "This isle is my home and the sanctuary of my people. I am its protector. And until you reach your journey's end, we are utterly at your service."

~.~.~

" _Ikuto!"_

There was an almighty ' _CLANG!'_ and the horribly familiar trail of chains as the pirate Captain entered the prisoners' wing - or, at least, what apparently passed for a prison. Before him lay a vast, dim corridor, lined by bars of what looked like bamboo, but stronger, sturdier, each marked at regular intervals by the unmissable, immovable figures of armoured men who each bowed diligently as their Lord passed by. Each was armed with a mighty longbow and an array of unfamiliar blades, all standing stark against the gloom.

Briefly, Ikuto wondered how often such a prison was used on an island like this, but he paid it no matter. He sighed. All around him his men arose in a clamour, his name running like a tide throughout the hut, echoing off the walls. They were struggling; _fighting_ to reach him through the bars. But Ikuto, though he paused to utter reassuring words as he passed, went straight for his sister.

"Utau, you'll take the whole hut down." He scolded. Red-faced and indignant, Utau's knuckles tightened against the bars, but she piped down reluctantly, looking like a spoiled child who had just been denied something she'd never wanted nor needed before that particular moment. She hissed;

" _Ikuto!_ Release us! An armoury lies at the end of the corridor! We can _take_ them!"

"The blonde has resolve." Musashi chimed in behind them, pacing into the low light where break in the rafters opened up and allowed a small sliver of light to trickle in through the rooftop. He cast his gaze calculatingly over the throng of pirates held locked in his keep. "And a fiery temper to match."

"We shall need extra bonds, for this one, My Lord!" An unfamiliar voice rang throughout the hut. A young man with glowing eyes of deepest indigo and a long, woven braid to match was striding towards them, his armour clinking and clanking with every step. "I'll see to it that she has her own cell! If we leave her much longer, I fear she'd tear down this hut and all within it!"

The flame of her ire rekindled, Utau rattled the cell door with such force that a tremor ran throughout the floor. But, thankfully, Musashi held up a hand in dismissal.

"Do no such thing." His voice was low and steady - the mark of a man weighed by years of continued command; dignified and distinguished as Ikuto had only ever seen amongst the likes of the King's own men. He needn't have said any more, for without another word the man would have left them be, but he continued; "Release these men-" - (A wave of awed whispers swept throughout the prison block as the pirates pressed their faces to the bars, holed up like rats, pushing up against each other to catch but the barest glimpse of the Lord of the isle.) - "-and have them clothed and watered ere evening falls. They are of no threat to us."

The armoured guard blinked, a flash of bewilderment striking across his features, but Musashi uttered something short, yet brusque, in his native tongue and at once the men about them were compliant. Before the crew could even blink their wrists were untied, their chains abandoned. Very soon the guards were bowing as if in reverence and duly they were allowed to pass. One by one, the pirates were being funnelled out of their cells, breathing sighs of relief, rubbing their red, raw limbs and shaking off their shackles. Ikuto regarded them with concern.

Apparently, Musashi sensed this. "Be at ease, Tsukiyomi. My men were under strict orders to bring them back into custody intact. No more nor less, for we have had eyes on your ship ever since she crested along the horizon."

Ikuto's lips curled drily. "Quite merciful of you." He began cautiously, speaking above the growing cacophony as his crew were slowly freed. "Should I ought to be in your debt? Few hold their blade on the prospect of invasion."

He'd only spoken such a thing in jest, but, to Ikuto's unwelcome surprise, something grim passed over the warrior's face then. Something ice cold, touched by what might have been the beginnings of an almost imperceptible, morbid sort of humour. Obscure, and immovable it was, but Ikuto could not quite put a finger on it.

"A good warrior learns from his enemies, Captain," he said; " _before_ he disposes of them."

Musashi moved on, leaving Ikuto with that lingering feeling of dread that had overcome him from the very moment that he'd woken up under the Shadow's gaze, but, thankfully, it was short-lived.

" _What_ is this?" Utau hollered, interrupting Ikuto's train of thought. She was just stepping over the threshold of her rotten cell, throwing the last of her chains squarely in the indigo-guard's face. She stormed over. "An _ambush_ in the forest!" She cried. "These men, Ikuto- These _savages-!_ "

"Calm _down_." Ikuto narrowed his gaze, appalled at her choice of words. "Hold your tongue and _listen_ , Utau, or, so help me _God-_ "

"There is no need for threats," Musashi said then, though in truth it could not be said which one of them he was talking to. For all his wisdom, the Lord did not seem to gather that this was not precisely the best moment to try and reason with the girl; "Please, my lady, this is hardly any way to address your Captain."

Utau snapped; "I'm his _sister!"_

" _Utau_."

She huffed, her cheeks still flushed with fury, but at the very least she bit her tongue. She averted her gaze almost sheepishly in a manner that told the Captain he'd definitely won. Ikuto fought the urge to snigger.

"Confines are not worthy of such a crew!" Musashi declared, loud enough for all to hear. "Cast off your bonds," Musashi said; "and, please, accept my apologies." And he bowed low before them, graciously as though in reverence. "My name is Musashi Miyamoto. Protector of the Hidden Isle. And I am at your service. On my honour you shall be fed and clothed and quartered as you may require, for your Captain is as good as his word." And, whilst his audience were quieted - shocked into silence - he turned back to the Captain. "Your craft must require attention. How many are you?"

"Near two-fifty." Ikuto said, if uncertainly. "Less, now that my stepfather and his men have deserted us. We were once three hundred."

In short, Musashi looked astounded. So astounded even that it was almost a shock, for Ikuto had rarely seen him so expressive, save for their very first meeting, of course, and he was not surprised. The Shining Black was, in fact, probably closer to two hundred, yet any average ship of-the-line (with _three_ whole gun decks as she had, no less!) would have required near four times the amount of naval men, if only to accommodate her sheer number of cannons. Five to a gun, it should have been, for the Shining Black had perhaps a hundred. But no. They could barely keep her afloat as it was, never mind even dream of engaging in battle.

"Not exactly the formidable force you'd have us believe." Musashi responded critically. Ikuto could do little more than reluctantly agree. He could just _feel_ all lingering caution fading in the warrior's mind as they went about releasing the last of the pirates. After all, what formidable threat were they now in comparison to all those years ago?

"We manage." Ikuto said drily. He tried not to think too much about the strain a simple storm had caused his men when Musashi interjected;

"No, do not mistake me, Captain. I am impressed. Come! I wish to survey your ship. Now that the Diamond is no longer an omen among us, we shall rebuild her. My men shall aid whatever required. They shall be of use to you wherever you see fit."

Such was the relief of the crew that many of the men at that moment broke out into song - into cries of triumph as they left the prison rejoicing, some laughing merrily, some stopping in the midst of the clearing beyond to breathe the air and relish in the last lingering mist of the rain. The hurricane was quickly becoming distant in their minds. Their peril was forgotten. Ikuto and Utau felt as though at long last they could breathe freely for the very first time as they were led by the waiting Shadow out into the compound where the mountain men's little congregation of huts and houses were gathered beneath the trees. Ikuto looked back only briefly, pausing but momentarily to reassure himself that the last of his men were safe and unchained.

What he didn't expect was to catch sight of purest, pastel pink.

His heart stuttered.

" _Amu,"_

Relief. It was relief, pure and simple, that rushed through Ikuto's body as he caught sight of honey-gold staring back at him from across the compound.

Amu reached out for him, only to draw back, placing her hand firm upon her hips. She looked like she was trying to keep from throttling him, casting her eyes up and down his figure, her gaze lingering on the bruises about his wrists and the pale white of his forehead. There must have been blood on his face. Ikuto felt like groaning. There was _always_ blood on his face.

"You _idiot!"_ Amu burst out of nowhere. "Can't you look after yourself for _one_ minute?"

Ikuto didn't respond. Indeed, he was flabbergasted. Perhaps he was still in shock, he thought faintly, for to see her here amidst the drizzle, her wet hair glowing like a beacon against the dark of the forest, well… She looked completely out of place. A member of his crew she might have been, but…

And then Ikuto realised.

"You're supposed to be with the Shining Black." Ikuto managed, perhaps more forcefully than he'd intended. "You _followed_ me?" Panic had flooded his senses. He thought back to his fight on the beach - to the echo of gunfire and the clash of swords - and, for a moment, he found himself overcome with _fear_. And, perhaps unfairly, he allowed it to get the better of him. "What happened to you? I told you to _stay_. Why can't you just _listen_ to me?"

His voice echoed off the walls of the compound, but, to his amazement, Amu didn't so much as blink.

No… In fact, she looked furious.

Amu opened her mouth, positively fit to burst, but then, their timing impeccable, a band of women with pale, fair faces and long, embroidered robes were ushered in from a path leading through the trees. They spoke no common tongue, but one of the guards - the young man with the purple hair who had angered Utau so - translated and directed them towards her.

"Ah! My lady, please, allow us to escort you to your quarters!"

There was a pause during which Ikuto gave the guard a particularly withered look and Amu fixed her gaze firmly at the dirt beneath her feet.

"Of course." She said stiffly. "I'd be glad."

Head down, Amu stomped off across the clearing. Ikuto deflated, trying to settle his nerves, and, after taking a moment to kick himself, turned back to follow Musashi and Utau towards the coast.

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : Wow. Okay. It's done and I'm so disappointed. I'm genuinely ashamed to present this to anyone who's still reading, but… I couldn't wait to get this over with. I need to get ahead to the good content™.

This first island has given me more trouble than all the rest of them put together. I've been rewriting this document for months; iIt's had more redrafts than any other chapter; I've been staring at it thinking ' _I can't publish THIS!'_ since about February. But I've given up. I keep looking at it and freaking out because when I put it alongside future chapters I've already written it makes me think I've lost my touch. This will _definitely_ be rewritten one day. Maybe sooner.

 _But_ , on a more positive note… This fic has _fanart now?_

Tumblr user aiocho posted a set in the fandom tag called ' _The Pirate and the Princess'_ which is based on some of the scenes from the first fic and honestly? I'm not over it? I can't _believe_ this self-indulgent pirate fic of mine has inspired such beautiful artwork! I'm in love with it so please guys if anyone's still here go and give aiocho all the love for me!

Till next time ~


	14. Chapter Fourteen

The Betrayed Marionette

~.~.~

Kazuomi was not to be found on this isle, that much was for sure. Musashi had spoken to Ikuto and Utau in the privacy of his personal hut long into the night as he recounted that fateful day the pirate Captain had seen fit to soil their blissful shores with the staining of blood and the acrid smoke of cannon fire. With them the mountain men had brought to this isle a hoard of jade antiquities - sacred and blessed artefacts kept guarded within a shrine at the height of the mountain peak. A pretty little incentive to earn the attention of pirates, it was, and Ikuto had spent most of his first night in his shared hut staring up at the shafts of moonlight as they crept in through the rafters, silently seething, full of loathing and contempt for the man whom he had been forced to address as 'father' for the past ten years.

Daylight brought with it a brief respite. There was work to be done on their ship and Musashi's men were as good as their word, marching down to the beach like troops to battle, burdened with wood and spare line and all manner of helpful things that were greatly appreciated on the crew's behalf. Their day passed in this manner. In fact, Musashi's guards and fellow villagers were so willing to band together, that Ikuto found himself almost redundant as the captain of Musashi's guard quite naturally found himself in charge of the repairments. He had ended up drifting away, his mind wholly occupied with other immediate thoughts. Yet, though the day passed quickly and productively, Ikuto's attempts to pursue Amu had remained completely fruitless.

He had tried, first and foremost, to determine which of the many sleeping huts was her new sleeping quarters. It had not been an easy feat. The domestic huts in which the people of this island dwelt lay further into the forest, nestled within a massive natural clearing in the northwest where the ground rose steeply, the path to which was marked by a clear path through the trees lined with stone lanterns and small pagoda-topped lodestones, but by the time Ikuto had reached their temporary shelters, he had quickly found out that Temari and a throng of the other village women had taken Amu, along with Utau and their mother, up into the forest where he later found out there lay a chain of hot springs - a place of peace and reflection; the soil, as the story went, hallowed by the fiery goddess that once brought these isles to life; who lived beyond the horizon, east of the sun, atop an unreachable isle shrouded by mist. There were many upon this isle (or so Ikuto had been told), but he could not set foot there, for customs here were strict and it was forbidden that any man should venture into the sacred groves where the spirit of the island bubbled up to the surface and there the women were allowed to scrub clean their weary souls with the deity's blessing. This was quite convenient for these fair ladies and particularly for Amu who it seemed had been taking every plausible opportunity to avoid coming face-to-face with him and, for the life of him, Ikuto could not figure out _why_.

Her little outburst still weighed heavily on his mind and he quickly grew to loathe himself. Perhaps he _shouldn't_ have raised his voice at her, but, in his greatest defence, she had disobeyed his direct order and, honestly, he didn't know what to make about the whole situation, for whenever he caught a glimpse of her face he was _sure_ that there was more building beneath the surface that he had no idea of.

With an almighty sigh, Ikuto had returned to the Shining Black and tried desperately to distract himself in work.

These mountain men were gracious people. Nigh on a hundred turned up to assist the crew in making whatever repairs were required for the Shining Black, though some at first had cowered beneath the shadow of the trees and gazed in a mix of awe and horror at the sight of her flag. And so together Ikuto had found welcome relief in directing the reparation of his ship; in scaling her masts and wrangling with her sails and stopping more than once in the space of the crow's nest and looking out to sea where the last of the gloom had faded from the horizon and where the gradual setting of the golden sun hissed upon the water's edge, melting into the ocean until it appeared that they were bobbing upon a spectacular sea of fiery molten bronze.

It had not gone unnoticed to him that Musashi, though outwardly and overwhelmingly accommodating, had not quite lost that cautious, reserved sort of look in his eye whenever any of the pirates were near. A heaviness seemed to overcome him whenever he caught sight of their sails fluttering in the breeze. Ikuto had said nothing. He couldn't blame the man, really. He was still thinking about how best to make peace with these men - how to effectively and finally prove to them in person that their business on this isle was not to be a threat to this small civilisation so that they might be willing to at least lay down their arms whenever a member of Ikuto's party passed by. It would take some convincing to appear completely harmless, Ikuto thought, but so far it seemed that their hosts were willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Certainly nothing had been said towards any of the pirates. On the contrary, some of them were warming up to their new guests far quicker than others. But that night as the moon rose - a mere white smudge in the sky as the sheet of cloud that encircled the mountain smothered it from the sky - Ikuto found that their hosts were altogether far more gracious than he had ever expected.

They'd been invited to a feast. A _feast_ of all things! Ikuto was no less surprised now than he had been when Musashi had first beckoned him to sit at the head table within the communal hut - a long, low building with a pagoda roof that overhung until the last remnants of rainfall brought over by the squall trickled faintly from its corners like little water features. And, even though the night was jovial and the hearth warm, Ikuto was so taken aback that he nearly missed the entire string of conversation;

"You sailed through the _typhoon?"_ One young warrior exclaimed, the picture of disbelief. His eyes were as wide as saucers. He scratched at his head and began to fumble over his own words. "B-But-But that _squall..!"_ He began. "It swept our fishing lines out to sea - flooded the windward springs! It took the roof off the mountain temple!"

Presently, Ikuto and the crew had been ushered into this long, low hall that lay a little way off the forest path towards the main compound where the islanders were busily scuttling to and fro, their arms laden with baskets and trays and all manner of other things as they prepared for what was to be a feast for their arrival. Or so Musashi said, anyway as they entered to find the hut flooded with glowing lantern lights and the welcome aroma of freshly-cooked food. After a hard day's graft aboard the Shining Black, her crew were to be treated to a grand meal. And a grand meal it was, for from the moment they set foot in the feasting hall their senses were overwhelmed by the most glorious aroma of fine, rich food. Needless to say, the crew had been helpless to resist the temptation of such a meal. They were all seated on little cushioned seats (if you could call them seats, for they were still required to sit cross-legged on the floor), merrily drinking and laughing and digging in to their hearts' content.

Ikuto was chewing his way through some sort of smoked fish when the warrior made his incredulous outburst. At various intervals about the table, members of Musashi's clan were staring back at these strange newcomers with equally amazed expressions, whispering eagerly amongst themselves, but their leader just looked unimpressed.

" _Rhythm_."

The youth's eyes widened. He nodded in what might have been a quick, half-hearted bow. "But, My Lord!" He said. "It is nigh-on impossible! Never have I heard of so reckless a feat with such fortunate endings! Captain, sir, your voyage is blessed by the sea itself!"

Musashi rubbed his temples. "Please forgive my companion." He said distastefully, ignoring the young man and turning to the nearest crew member his eyes fell upon, which happened to be Ikuto. "He is not quite so… _Disciplined_ as the rest of us, despite his mastery in combat."

But Rhythm, or so he had been called when he was introduced as the captain of the guard, didn't look at all discouraged. He was regarding each and every pirate now with a renewed sense of awe, his food laying forgotten in front of him. His chopsticks were slipping from his fingertips. "But that is unbelievable…" He said at last. "That is foolhardy! Captain, sir, had I not seen her in anchor beside our beloved shores I would not have believed your ship still sailed. It is remarkable."

Ikuto nodded graciously, but did not say anything much. Musashi, however, was growing tired of his guard's behaviour. "Remarkable, perhaps," he said; "but foolhardy almost certainly. Your former Captain is not here. Had you not come by this hidden isle through such means, I might have thought you'd followed a fool's errand."

Loathe as he was to admit it, Ikuto had to agree. He thought back briefly to the events of the day. He had, quite reluctantly, found himself obliged to divulge just where and when he and his crew had come by the map that had led them to this place. Musashi had been unreadable, as ever, but now it was evident that the man was torn between considering their endeavour to be either brave or utterly reckless.

"It came to us through… _Sound_ means." Ikuto repeated, though he wasn't quite sure why. There was just something about this wild man that made one feel as though there was little point in bottling up/ _ **concealing**_ whatever thoughts one had, for Musashi gave the distinct impression that, silent or not, he would be able to worm his way into your thoughts and browse through them at leisure whether given permission or not. There was nothing to hide from this man. And Ikuto wasn't sure whether that was a positive trait or not. Useful, yes… But also forbidding.

"'Sound'?" Musashi looked doubtful. "From a former associate? From the man's own relative? Captain, with little caution, I daresay you might find yourself sailing headfirst into a trap."

But Ikuto's attention was wandering. Absently he kept glancing about the hall, taking his gaze from the food before him and watching near-desperately for a familiar face about the crowd. His heart sank. She was nowhere to be found. In her absence, Ikuto forced himself to try and make conversation if only to distract himself from the gnawing guilt that was manifesting in the pit of his stomach.

"It wouldn't be the first time." Ikuto muttered drily. He thought back with a grim remembrance back to the night his stepfather had so callously deserted them in the dead of night, leaving them to cruise leisurely into the hands of the navy of Seiyo. He shook his head. "My one consolation is the venom with which our former captain's grandson spoke of him. I believe his help to be sound."

"That's all very well," Rhythm piped up again; "but your quest falls into folly. That is, in my own humble opinion at least."

Musashi, up until now, had said little more on the matter, but now he laid down his goblet and exhaled deeply, his gaze clouded, yet no less dimmed, as though in the grip of some trance, full of wisdom and deep in sagely thought. At last he came back to life (or so it seemed) and his tone was steady;

"Whether folly or no, the mark of a true man born into leadership is the ability to trust their own intuition." He said. His eyes were on Ikuto now and the glowing embers drifting about the lantern lights danced like fireflies in his pupils until it seemed that the light of his own iron will was manifested there and then before them. "Your intuition is strong, Captain," he continued; "and you have shown to me so far to be a man of great strength."

Ikuto had to stop himself from double taking there and then. He nodded his head in what was to be a vague impersonation of the lowly bow he had seen these men exchange with one another whether in greeting or in thanks.

"I'm flattered." he said, trying to keep his voice as steady and commanding as his most gracious host. "And it is an honour to be invited to dine with you tonight."

There was a pleasant lull as the Captain took a long drink, idly picking at his plate. "So," he began, if only to keep the conversation from becoming quiet and awkward; "you are a monastery?" He asked. "Only I hear that the springs here are sacred."

"Sacred? Yes." Musashi answered. "A monastery? Well, perhaps once, Captain, but many moons have passed since first we sailed to these peaceful shores."

"I must admit, I didn't expect this island to be inhabited." Ikuto added in. At this Musashi looked almost… Proud? Relieved? Ikuto could not tell, but his voice had softened and he gazed thoughtfully into his goblet, gently swirling the dark liquid about the rim.

"Ah, yes." He said. "That is something of a comfort to me, for, you see, those that seek this isle seek it not for jade nor land nor gold as perhaps your captain once did… No, that seek it come in search of… Well, I believe you call it 'nirvana'? A respite - a haven free of their birthlands' atrocities. This island calls to us - calls to _me_ in particular." And he laid down his goblet, his expression gentle, yet far-off. "It is the least I may do to defend it."

"Well, in that case I applaud you." Ikuto went on. "This isle is not even on our charts. Had we not come upon my stepfather's map-"

Musashi cut in then and to Ikuto's surprise, it seemed he was sporting something of a smile. "Indeed, it is truly a tranquil place to live - as stunning as the sunrise of the goddess herself - she who lives beneath the mountain - and I daresay I would not trade it for anything that this world has to offer."

Ikuto couldn't help but to allow a brief grin to spread across his face. Something soft and warm was radiating within his chest. He raised his goblet in toast and the mountaineers and buccans all around him duly followed. The night drew on. There was singing and laughing and music merrily playing in the background. Wine and water and some sort of fiery spirits were freely flowing so much so that, as the hours went by, Ikuto nearly almost forgot about his earlier plight to pursue Her Highness. That was until the night had fully fallen and, right on cue, a throng of village women entered the hut, bearing with them ever more baskets full of food.

And, behind them, Ikuto caught sight of powder pink.

Ikuto's breath hitched in his throat. Like the steady wash against the shore something faint and furiously passionate overcame him. He could feel distantly the constant ' _thus-thud!'_ of his heart in his chest; could feel something full of want and longing stirring in the pit of his stomach. There was a pull - a fierce tugging at the fabric of his heartstrings as, graciously, she swept across the tatami floor of the hut, until it appeared then and there that she was gliding soundly as mist upon the water or as the last lingering light of the setting sun skirts fleetingly over the edge of the sea.

Amu, alongside the other females that made up Ikuto's closer social circle, was guided by a woman with bright indigo hair that rivalled Rhythm's and a smile that made her gentle face light up as the fresh fleeting light of a brand new dawn. But Ikuto was not looking at any of the village women. And it was not merely her expression that had his heart skip. No, Ikuto was looking at _her_. He prayed a silent thanks to whatever obscure deity might have looked over this isle, for over the course of the afternoon it appeared that she'd been transformed. Welcomed into their customs, it appeared that each of the women had been polished and perfected by their afternoon at the mountain springs. Amu's skin was radiant; her cheeks pink and glowing; she'd been presented with an example of the islanders' traditional dress and Ikuto recognised the distinctive shape and simplicity of the traditional, kimono-like silhouette. Somehow, Amu seemed to wear it better than any of the island women. It's embroidery shone through gold and silver in the dim light; black and crimson pagodas stood stark against scarlet down the sides of her skirts; the fabric was punctuated by the bright, vibrant presence of leaves and petals and bright white cranes with long stitched beaks…

There was much more to comment on, had Ikuto had the time, but for now, he sat back in awe and watched as she, alongside Utau and Yaya (where their mother had gone, Ikuto did not know, but he could not fault her for avoiding such a communal gathering) were invited to join at Musashi's main table. Amu's hair had been fashioned into an updo, nourished in soft, sweet-smelling oils so that her silken curls fell free about her cheeks, fastened by a fashionable clip that spread outright as the wings of a crane, that might have sat perfectly had the evening breeze not carried such humidity up from the south in the wake of the hurricane. She was constantly tucking stray locks behind her ear, but Ikuto didn't care much for her state of disarray. In fact, as he looked upon her, his keen gaze following as Musashi stood and beckoned her over to the spare seat at his side, Ikuto altogether failed to find but one aspect of her dress that he didn't consider perfection.

"Evening."

Amu's eyes darted up towards him once she'd settled (albeit with difficulty), kneeling upon a cushioned seat opposite the Captain. That mere glance was just about all she had to offer him besides a strained, edgy sort of smile which, in actual fact, appeared more to be a curl of the lip than the proper, sun-shiny beam Ikuto was used to. He felt the warmth of her gaze turn to ice as she regarded him silently. Ikuto cursed to himself. So she was still frosty with him.

Knowing that this was not exactly the time to push the subject, he busied himself with his meal, feeling somewhat disheartened. Off on the other side of the hut, they could hear what appeared to be Kukai's rambunctious, but playful tone as he and a group of pirates tried to teach some of the stony-faced warriors a string of sea shanties. Amu giggled lightly, reaching for a sample of what looked like seasoned kelp and counted herself rather remarkably lucky, for not every sailor caught up in such a storm could say they'd lived to tell the tale - much less that they'd been swept straight off-course and found themselves welcomed by a five-course banquet with such generous hosts and warm firelight, roaring strong, besides to keep the chill off their backs. Amu watched, her chest filling with gratitude, as the rest of the ragged crew of the Shining Black took their fill of fine food and finer drink. At least ten long tables creaked beneath the weight of bowls and leaf fronds laden with food. The open fire at the centre of the hut radiated a homely, blessed warmth. Big, gleaming pitchers of polished black ceramic that shone in the dull firelight were filled to the brim with sweet, fresh water carried down from a sacred spring. Undoubtedly, it was pure relief after weeks on naught but spirits and dry wine and the spirit - the _soul_ \- that these merry islanders presented to their guests was perhaps the most courteous, most valuable welcome they could have ever hoped to receive.

No, it was not often a vagabond crew of buccaneers could find themselves in such a cushy spot between voyages. Over on the far side of the hut, music was playing on instruments Amu had never seen before. She watched and listened with great enthusiasm, carried away by the vitality and mirth of the band. But back at the head table, Amu had barely noticed that Musashi's gaze had fallen upon her. He was silent for a while, chewing slowly, his brows narrowed as though trying in desperation to recall something long forgotten. His façade was cool, yet calculating as he regarded every fleeting moment in her company with careful consideration. Finally, he spoke;

"Your face is familiar to me." Musashi mused quietly to himself. In fact, over the background noise, the pirates barely heard it. Amu looked up to find him regarding her curiously from his seat at the head of the table. He went on; "I recall something in your countenance, but it has been years since any men of the west have ventured here. Nigh on decades it has been, it must be said, but still… It is curious."

Amu's cheerful expression almost faltered. Something not unlike exasperation almost overwhelmed her. It was true that, for obvious reasons, Amu was not unused to being recognised, but all at once she remembered… There was every chance that this isolated island community did not recognise her face from friezes or paintings or public appearances. In fact, it was nigh on impossible. Still, she cast him a particularly withered look.

"Ah, well, once perhaps…" She began almost bashfully. "Nowadays I'm afraid any recognition of my character is quite _controversial_."

There was little more that Amu thought - or _wanted_ \- to say, but, on the opposite side of the table, Ikuto could not help but smile. "Come now, Amu," he began with such a smooth and silky tone that she instinctively felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, not unpleasantly, but in something akin to a strange delight. "Don't be so modest. _This,"_ Ikuto said, gesturing towards her with an outstretched palm; "is the official heir to the throne of Seiyo."

Amu could have leapt across the table and throttled him, such was her displeasure in being reminded of all that had come between her and her royal title (though, in truth, she wouldn't have changed anything that had befallen her for the world), for she was in reality a humble woman with little interest in the grandiose prestige and entitlement that the elite enjoyed upon a simple name-drop, but before she could scold him, the pin seemed to drop. Musashi's deep, sea-green eyes lit up immediately in recollection.

"Young Lady Midori?" He uttered at last, astonished. "The King's betrothed?"

It was perhaps the most expressive any of the newcomers had ever seen him - so much so, in fact, that it was a good moment or so before Amu remembered that he was expecting an answer or indeed realised the name by which he had called her. Startled, her thoughts had slowed, but now something seemed to click. She almost laughed.

"Oh! Oh, no, not quite, Mr Lord! My name is Amu." And, when the warrior's face remained blank; "Amu Hinamori." She elaborated, smiling kindly at his mistake. "Midori is my mother."

For a moment, Musashi couldn't seem to find the words. It was almost amusing, certainly for Ikuto who had first been introduced to this brave, stoic man of steel at the end of a sword and was now trying to hide his mirth behind a goblet of wine.

" _Hinamori?"_ Musashi repeated. Amu nodded politely. "Your mother is the current queen of Seiyo?" Again, Amu nodded. Musashi took a long, thoughtful draught from his golden goblet and cast his eyes back upon the table, but his thoughts were far away and distant, his demeanour placid. All at once, Amu and Ikuto and any other pirates present truly understood there and then the nature of these faraway island folk, for despite their strength; their royally decorated dwellings; despite their organised nature and the rich tapestry that encapsulated their very culture, these people were all alone. Isolated. Cut off from civilisation until time itself for them stood still. Whatever comings and goings beyond their mountain - beyond their forests and the shores of the sea - was of little thought to them. And so Musashi seemed almost jaded as he mused quietly to himself;

"So the young prince married her after all…" And then, as quickly as it had overcome him, the expression faded: "My apologies, _Amu_ ," he said, testing the name upon his tongue; "but I have been at home here on this isle for quite longer than I care to admit."

Amu at once perked up. Ikuto watched with fondness as that telltale spark of curiosity flashed across her face. "Come now!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide and glittering. She at once abandoned her meal in favour of what was to be an intriguing conversation. "But I am only just twenty! And my parents were childless for, oh, maybe four years before me - courted another five! You cannot have been oblivious for so long, surely? How long have you been here at all?"

Musashi thought for a moment. "Well," he began; "I first came from the far east just some few months after Emperor Shuraiya had invaded his western neighbours." And his lips twisted into something of a disgusted sort of grimace. It was perhaps the most expressive any of them had seen him all evening. "A true tyrant if ever I've seen one. What became of him?" And he fell into something of a lamentful mourning; "What ill became of the lord of golden halls? Of whispering sands and blissful oases? How did such malice befall the once-kind king? We do not tend to ingratiate ourselves with the world quite as we once did, so I confess I do not know, but the injustice of his dominion over our peaceful cousins still aches like a wound newly inflicted to this very day."

Amu seemed to second this notion. Ikuto observed as her lips curled. She laughed bitterly to herself without mirth. "I'm afraid to say as much, my Lord, but he is still going strong… My father's post-wedding grace was interrupted trying to come to peace with the emperor's army. By invading your cousins of the western kingdom, he thwarted Seiyo's aim to come to peaceful negotiations with their Khan who had offered the rights to a rare jade mine as a goodwill gesture upon my parents' wedding. I was to be wed to His Unholiness this summer just passed until…" A pause. Amu hesitated, growing almost sheepish. Amu grew almost sheepish. Her golden eyes darted briefly towards Ikuto before falling back again to her leftover meal. She lowered her head, picking at the remnants of food slowly, desperate for distraction. There was a tinge of pink upon her cheeks. "Well…"

Musashi's eyes followed her gaze. Ikuto found himself staring back into the warrior's blank façade.

"No matter." Musashi said quietly. "I think I understand."

If Amu had been blushing before, she was positively red in the face now. Musashi started up a new conversation, much to her relief, but it appeared to Ikuto that for the rest of the night Amu remained somewhat subdued. In light and laughter and merry drinking she graciously partook amongst her fellow crew mates and saviour alike, but it was always short-lived and with every pause - every lull in conversation - Ikuto found her self-conscious and quiet, avoiding his every attempt to silently pique her curious attention...

Eventually, as the firepit dimmed and the dishes and plates and many goblets were emptied, Amu stood and made to excuse herself. As she slipped from the hut, Ikuto rose.

She wouldn't be getting away from him tonight.

He barely remembered to throw back an excuse to Musashi as he sidled out of the hut and into the cool night air. He looked around. He could just see the break in the forest where the path took him back to the main gathering of dwelling huts, its edges marked by stone lanterns wherein little yellow flames danced as wisps within the night. He followed it instinctively, drawn by the ' _tug-tug-tug!'_ -ing of his own heart as he sought her out amidst the darkness. But even the night could not conceal her. Not with eyes so bright nor hair so vivid.

Amu was just halfway down the path when Ikuto's voice piped up behind her;

"Need someone to walk you back, Your Highness?"

Even in the dark, Ikuto could see her shoulders tense. There was a pause. A breath of wind loosened some of the locks that were slowly starting to slide from her elaborate updo. Amu turned, tucking a few strands of pink behind her ear. Her voice was icy;

"I can walk myself just fine, thank you."

Ikuto could barely contain himself for a moment, for in the mild breeze he caught a hint of her perfume - a fragrance he did not recognise, but it enchanted him all the same so that he found himself following her, bound in some sort of waking dream, dazed and drawn by wandering feet towards her.

"Come now, Amu-"

Amu sighed, her whole body almost physically deflating. "What do you _want_ , Ikuto?"

"Well, for a start, I'd like to know why you're so intent on avoiding me." He said, though, deep down, he suspected he already knew. The echo of his own raised words from the day before in his ears was drowning out all else and with it he felt his chest grow heavy and heated with guilt. Ikuto knew deep down that, in that moment, he had let his anger get the better of him. And, truly, he was ashamed, for she had done nothing wrong. Indeed, she had even proven herself a worthy opponent in battle! But, for some reason, Ikuto just couldn't bring himself to admit it there and then - not when his first instinct was to fall back into defence.

Meanwhile, Amu seemed almost flippant. "Don't pin this on _me_ , Ikuto." She said, her tone deathly. Her expression was absolutely wrought with what Ikuto could only suppose was some long-bottled turmoil. "You know full _well_ what this is about! Why shouldn't I be angry? You could've gotten yourself _killed!"_

Ikuto sighed, massaging his weary temples, but Amu wasn't finished.

"Why are _you_ always running headfirst into the line of fire? Why must _I_ wait behind for you - every time! What gives you the _right?_ " There were tears glistening at the corners of her eyes now, her face illuminated as the gentle air picked up for a moment, sending one of the lantern lights into a frenzy so that the firelight fell perfectly golden upon her face. The sight set Ikuto aback. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She continued; "Why can't you just _trust_ me?"

"Amu..." Ikuto began, at a loss for words, barely managing any sort of coherent thought; "Amu, please, understand-"

"Understand _what_?" Amu snapped, fully facing him now. The cool of the midnight air was no match for the chill in her voice. "What is it? You think I can't fight? You think I don't _deserve_ to fight? Listen to me, Ikuto; I have as much reason as you to set off on this voyage! What _use_ am I if you relegate me to the Shining Black at every isle?" Ikuto shook his head silently, but this only seemed to anger her more. "Well what is it? You think that I'm useless? That I'm too ' _weak'_ to fight as the rest of you? I can't abide either of those notions! How little faith do you have in me? How little care?" And, desperate, her voice broke; " After everything we've been through… After all this _time_ -!"

She was crying now - her cheeks blotchy and her eyes wet - and the sight was enough to make Ikuto want to just rush over there and encompass her entirely in his arms - to kiss her sweetly and bury his face in her perfumed hair and beg for forgiveness, for he had not wholly realised up 'til now just how much she had bottled throughout their voyage together…

"Amu…"

But she wouldn't have any of it.

"Goodnight, Ikuto."

Before he could even cry after her, she had buried her face in the sleeve of her kimono and vanished into the night.

Stood solitary amidst the trees, Ikuto buried his face in his hands and wondered how on earth he would make it up to her.

~.~.~

 _A/N_ : I love Musashi. That is all.

I'm no good at characters arguing or having conflict, so…idk, I hope the amuto wasn't rusty in this chapter.

Anyway, it's been a while as I've been preparing for an exam. Updates may take a little longer. I'm studying full-time ( _help me_ ), plus everything from about chapter 10 has been completely new territory for me. It's all things I've never written before, unlike the first fic where I already had the chapters all drafted out to improve on. Quite excited for some stuff in the next chapter though. I hope you'll wait for it!

Sidenote: I'd also like to thank the anon who left me the most amazing review on the last chapter (as I can't PM anons privately!). Thank you so much! I might have teared up a little bit lmao, you're wayyy too kind to me.

Til next time~


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